I woke up this morning in a bit of a panic. Because the clock on the nightstand read 10 a.m. And there were no children in our bed. And the house was quiet.
Had my babies been kidnapped during the night?
Now wait a second, I thought. I could swear I remembered Anthony sneaking into bed between Jerry and I around 4 a.m.
I turned to my hubby with a quizzical look.
“Don’t worry,” he said. “They’re in the living room watching cartoons.”
I was floored. Not only had my children agreed on a cartoon, but they were watching it – silently – together? Without demanding cereal or juice or just plain attention from Mom and Dad?
So I did what I hoped any mother would do. I cuddled up with my husband and enjoyed a full 40 minutes of extra sleep. Until a smiley-faced Anthony showed up at my bedside and proclaimed, “Cera and me are crying because we need you.”
Obviously, there were no tears (the kids actually were sitting on the floor playing nicely with one another when I entered the living room), but there were two hungry children who needed breakfast and morning hugs from their mom.
It was my own version of a small Sunday miracle.