It was an evening just like every other evening: I was taking clothes out of the dryer (now in the family room closet), Tim was playing with Mark at his train table (in the same room). Adam was up in bed already (hard day -- first shots), and Mark was saying "Ready, GO!" over and over, when he stopped and said "Daddy" and turned and gave Daddy a big hug.
He wasn't done.
"Mommy," he said, running over to me with his arms outstretched. I bent over for a big, two-armed hug.
"I love you," I said to him (like I do every time I can).
"I love you," my little (big) boy squeaked. He even used different inflection, to make me think he was saying it, not just saying it.
It was even better because we'd had a rough morning today. Maybe I bought it with Teddy Grahams after supper. Whatever.
What a nice way to end the day.
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