Bedtime

In a family of six, bedtime is either pure calm or complete chaos. Molly is 9 months old today. Kate is a bouncing four years. Meg is nine, a new nine, toes on the edge of all that makes one a young lady. Cole, ever the old soul is ten. I'm not certain how it is that we've been parents for a decade, but it seems that we have. I sat in Molly's nursery tonight at bedtime and watched what looked much like ants in an anthill as the "big kids" scurried to and fro while Darrin attempted to put them into bed. It seemed that each time he put one into bed another would "pop up" and appear out into the hallway and then disappear into another room only to be shooed back to their own room eventually. I watched all of this from the rocking chair holding a freshly awakened Molly who was wise enough not to miss this show. Finally, everyone was kissed, tucked in and prayed with and Darrin and I walked gently down the stairs fully expecting to be followed by at least an ant or two.