When the last child walks out the door at 8:05 a.m., Porter, Luke and I start our mornings in the library.
We tackle a few books,
tell a few jokes,
color a few pages,
and squeeze in a few tickling sessions.
Porter is a boy who lives for routines.
Like none of my other children.
He needs our mornings in the library. He needs to read the same stories, he needs to color in the same coloring book, he needs Luke to play with the same toys.
Mornings in the library are slow. And Porter gets to be in charge.
He runs the activities like a drill sergeant.
On mornings when the others are home from school, we abandon our library time. It's not to be shared with the others. This is how he likes it. But after an extra long weekend or an extended break from school, I can see the relief in his face, I can hear the happiness in his voice when HIS library time is back. The world is set right again.
Soon, Porter will go to school, and mornings in the library will be over and he won't ever think of them again.
But I will.
I will always treasure our mornings laughing,
snuggling,
tickling,
learning
and being together.
