Please. Stop. Moving.

Sheesh! I love my little guy, but he NEVER stops moving or talking. He moves and talks all day long until he finally collapses into a deep sleep.


And then this energetic 8-year-old starts all over again first thing in the morning. From 0 to 60 in three seconds. He's dressed and ready for a full day of reading, playing, imagining, eating, theorizing, organizing, talking to the dogs, building Legos, creating spaceships and so much more.


Even now, at 9:23 p.m., he's telling me his legs aren't tired yet. Only his arms are. There's no school tomorrow so we're having some extra family time with finger foods and "camping out" in the living room. His sister (11) crashed on the couch snuggled into my hubby an hour ago and won't wake up till mid-morning tomorrow.


Counting My Blessings
I realize that we are very blessed to have a healthy, energetic, intelligent son who is also very considerate (he spent all day today creating and wrapping presents for his dad's birthday tomorrow). He's not hyperactive – he just has so much to do and talk about. I am so very thankful that he visits with me about what's going on his life. He's a healthy little guy who is growing well and is so very articulate. He gets plenty of sleep (once he stops moving) and is a delight to us. It can be tough to get much writing (or anything else) done when working at home. My prose can become peppered by "Hey, Mom!" and "Look at this!".


9:40 p.m. He's. Still. Moving. Dancing. Snapping his fingers. Spinning. "Disappearing" under the sleeping bag he's supposed to be laying under. Balancing a dog bone on his feet. Discussing TV commercials with us. Demonstrating a Lego project to his dad.


I get so exhausted just watching him. And perhaps I'm a bit jealous. I remember (barely) those days when I could be a whirling dervish of energy, single-handedly accomplishing a never-ending To Do list. 


So, as I watch the silent film, The Artist, win the Golden Globe, I recognize the irony of this moment and am ever-thankful for the sounds of my sweet boy. Because it won't belong until he's got his own family and our house will be much too quiet.