"To say before going to sleep"

It would be good to give much thought, before
you try to find words for something so lost,for those long childhood afternoons you knew
that vanished so completely --and why?We're still reminded--: sometimes by a rain,
but we can no longer say what it means;
life was never again so filled with meeting,
with reunion and with passing onas back then, when nothing happened to us
except what happens to things and creatures:we lived their world as something human,
and became filled to the brim with figures.And became as lonely as a shepherd
and as overburdened by vast distances,and summoned and stirred as from far away,
and slowly, like a long new thread,introduced into that picture-sequence
where now having to go on bewilders us.

"Childhood" by Rainier Maria Rilke

March of the Falsettos

I have to tell you: the world changes when your little peeps make it out of the crib.

Mornings are my time. I love the quiet hours before the world rises. I make the coffee and lean on the counter and smell the rich roasted beans. I sit by the window and watch the day go from blue to gray to light. There is time to read, or just sit and think.

Normally we control how long this moment lasts. When we're ready: coffee'd, dressed, fed...we open the door to the Peeper's room (since he and Missy are sharing until her's is ready) and pick up warm, snuggly little folks and carry them out to the living room to begin their day.

Not today.

Mojo and I were sitting talking quietly when we heard the "thump" of Peep's door opening and the marching feet coming up the hallway; Missy stumping along in front with a grinning Peeper following behind.

"I got her out of her crib!" he announced, before the two burrowed in with me to cuddle, play and drink their chocolate milk breakfast (Bad Daddy, I know...sigh). As much as I realize that this means we're now on Peep's schedule instead of ours, the little morning parade was so cute I can't feel upset.

And the band played on...