a family is everybody all together

This weekend was completely, entirely normal. Our ambitions were moderate; the socializing was minimal. There was cereal for breakfast, there were naps, there was coloring and cutting and glueing; there was a bit more restful time for all of us than the week usually allows.

There was a beautiful snowfall all day Saturday.

Often on the weekends we have 'grown up dinner' after the children go to bed. A break from 5:30 dinners featuring spilled drinks and spoons banged on plates to the rhythm of The Wheels on the Bus feels so very civilizing. Plus, it provides a much needed chance to talk and reconnect over a long, quiet meal.

But this past Saturday afternoon, an overtired Frances fell asleep with me in my bed. She looked downright angelic as I carefully slipped my arms out from underneath her (a vision I really needed, given how tough she's been lately). She napped for over an hour and came downstairs acting like herself. Ah! She and Gabriel played. Everything felt so peaceful, I decided we would have a family dinner tonight, with lovely views of our glittering, snowy yard all around us.

I moved our chairs into a new arrangement at the table, so we could all see each other better. I made rice and dahl, a simple, satisfying favorite. We adults didn't have our mental lists of odds and ends we'd been waiting to report to one another all day, because we'd actually seen each other a bit already. The children were unusually rested and happy. So we talked all together, mostly about the performance of Papageno (a kid-sized version of The Magic Flute) I'd taken the children to that morning. It was a real, lengthy, spirited conversation!

Frances told the story, and Gabriel would jump in with the important details, such as: the dragon JUMPED! (punching the air with his fists above his head for added emphasis) The dragon JUMPED! He JUMPED!

Which made us all laugh, and made him laugh too.

The little pleasures continued. Gabriel carefully spooned way too much yogurt onto his dahl, murmuring to himself: it's good, it's good. Frances recounted her experience as a participant on stage with great relish - how she wore a frog mask and held the hand of the opera singer who played a witch but she really wasn't a witch in real life; she was just acting. Mike and I sat back and grinned at each other.

In my mind, I kept hearing Father from the Frances the badger books (A Baby Sister for Frances, specifically) putting down his evening newspaper and saying: Isn't that right! A family is everybody all together.

That night, the stars aligned, the conditions were perfect. We were everybody all together.

Parenting young children is so hard. Being a family is so joyful.