You better write it down

...or you will forget."

Were the words from the friend at church: a woman who is past her season of daily mothering the little ones in her home and now gets to spoil grandkids. She continued, "I know my kids did sweet things when they were little- I know they did- because they were sweet kids. But now I can't remember."

So I'm taking her advice, because I don't want to forget.

I don't want to forget how when Silas is drinking his milk he has to be touching or rubbing someone...usually its my rear end which is awkward, but I'm assuming it's because of the height proximity.  But one day it was Seth's ear. That boy.

I don't want to forget how Canaan tries to get out of trouble by claiming he can't hear us;  like this afternoon when Cory told him to leave our room because Mommy and Dadddy were talking. We threatened punishment after his blatant disobedience, and while looking him in the eyes explained our request again. But Canaan's only response was, "Daddy I just can't hear you saying that to me." That boy.

I don't want to forget in the last few weeks how Judah has turned a corner in our family. I know it simply by the way he jokes. One afternoon Cory was ranting about some silly little complaint and Judah retorted "Wow that sounds rough" then grinned real big. He was being sarcastic. In other words, he is one of us now. Later that same day Cory recounted the story to me while Judah was standing by his side listening to his Daddy brag about how funny he is.  Then there was that same grin again. That boy.

I don't want to forget how our stud soccer player was out of town for our last game, but out from under his shadow emerged Seth Jones taking the team to victory with two goals. After each one, both arms shot into the air in celebration. He ran down the field to Daddy the coach and then shot me a look on the sidelines with a rhetorical, "Did you see me Momma?" I did. And I do. That boy.

I don't want to forget how Titus brings communion to an elderly woman at church every Sunday. At Crosswalk, we have a newish tradition where you go to the back of the auditorium and pick up the bread and cup from tables then bring it to your seat. One day all on his own, Titus noticed Autumn remained seated while everyone else stood up to get their communion. And so he brought some to her with no prompting from anyone. In fact, I started to get on to him when I saw him come back for a refill, until he explained what he had done. He does it every Sunday, with no reminders, all on his own. The only exception was this morning when our family went to a different table on the other side of the auditorium to collect our bread and juice. I think he just didn't see her. He did, however, see the dad who remained seated because he was holding a sleeping baby. And of course, Titus shared with him. That boy.

I don't want to forget my conversation with Levi on the way home from soccer practice Monday night and how I fumbled through explaining what is means that a boy on his team has two moms. We laughed together as he shared what he has overheard kids at school saying about sex. I think for him it started as a this-is-an-uncomfortable-conversation-to-have-with-your-mother laugh, but then for both of us it turned into belly laughing. I'm sure you're curious what euphemisms 4th graders use for sex, but he's getting to the age where I would embarass him if I broadcasted our trusted conversations. But I had to include an anonymous version here. I had to write it down, because I don't want to forget the way he can make me laugh. That boy.

And I don't want to forget how I walked out of work last week and Cory had left me, not one, but two boxes of rice krispie treats on the windshield of the van because he know's that's my latest addiction. And because as he puts it: "I love to take care of you." That boy.