The past week or so has been non-stop sick children. Puke, mucus, jumping out of bed at all hours, sharing bed with feverish-wildly thrashing-coughing little people, short tempers, exhaustion.
Last night, dragging the two of them around the living room in a large tupper ware bin made up for all of it. Listening to that laughter makes up for everything. It didn't matter that the constant spinning was making me physically ill, or that when I'd fall to the ground waiting for my equalibrium to return they'd start using me as a trampoline. That laugh, the laugh of utter joy, abandonment to the moment, the laugh only someone with only 3 or 4 years under their belts and without the weight of the world on their shoulders can produce, that makes everything ok.
That's what it's all about.
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