I Can't Wait. . . .

Kids make everything better.  OK. . . . . not everything, but most things.  Lots of things?  Kids make lots of things better.  Holidays are one of them.  Same with dreams.  I used to dream of making forts in my living room with my kids out of all sorts of blankets and chairs.  As it turns out, it's even better in real life than in my "dreaming of having kids and what I'd do with them" days.  It's funnier.  They're funnier.  You just can't dream up the things they say and do. 

I would also dream of being able to take my kids out of school for a spur of the moment day at Lagoon the way my parents did that one time.  I had dreams of surprising them with a trip to Disneyland and filming the excitement as the realization sunk in.  I still do. And in fact, I can't wait for those days.  I can't wait to take them to wade in the Great Salt Lake and look at their upturned noses when they breathe in the foul smell.  I can't wait to watch their faces when they take off on an airplane ride for the first time.  I look forward to the dance recitals, the softball games, the gymnastics routines.  I can't wait to hear all about their first crushes.  I can't wait to take them to a Bee's game when they're old enough to sing the classic "Take Me Out to the Ball Game" songs and eat the delicious baseball hot dogs and frozen lemonade. 

I can't wait for all of these things.. . . And yet, I refuse to wish away my days, waiting until they're old enough to remember and participate in my plans.  

So for the time being,  I'm going to enjoy my babies as they are right now.  Too little to make so many big plans, yet exactly perfect for jumping on the bed and being thrown in the air.  Because someday when they're all grown up, I'm going to dream of the lazy days we spent jumping on the bed, making a complete mess with the ball pit, and being chased by the tickle monster.

It's funny how these seemingly insignificant days can turn out to be such cherished memories of uncontrollable giggles and pure and simple joy. 

Besides, making the bed is a lot more boring than flying into the pile of covers. . . . .. right?

These memories for me:  Priceless