I lay in bed this morning with an unquenchable desire for watermelon. My mouth felt hot and dry. I dreamed of the fresh, cool fruit; of the sweet liquid satiating my thirst. Alas, I live in the mountains of Idaho--there are no watermelons of any value in December.
Moments later, my husband and I sprang from our warm bed because we heard water . . . a lot of water . . . and it was pouring out of the ceiling. Of course, the first thought is burst pipe! After a moment of sleuthing, we discovered our son taking a shower with the curtain outside of the tub walls. His shower was draining on the bathroom floor and, thereby, through the basement ceiling.
I came upstairs to find all five of my children awake (at least an hour before they usually wake up). They were on the couch staring at the Christmas tree. I remember doing that. Christmas is full of magic, when you are six. I squished in with them and we talked quietly, enjoying the lights, the companionship and the warmth under our shared blanket.
Then one child asked for egg nog. There is about 3/4 cup left in the carton. If I let her have some, the other six of us wouldn't get any. That would be terribly unfair. I told her "no" which invited a tremendous tantrum. This effectively ended quiet time.
After showering and starting breakfast, I logged on to read the headline: I Cheated and it Saved My Marriage. Wow. What a broken, fallen world.
After a little prayer of gratitude for my good and faithful husband, I cleaned up the water spilled by the child trying to water the tree, put yet another diaper on the baby--she keeps taking them off so it went on backwards this time--and made it before she did her duty. I raced around squelching a few childhood storms. The laundry is going, my bed is made, now a blog post is written.
It's 8:30 and I'm ready for a nap.