Coming home to a house full of kids getting ready for breakfast, I pause for a quick hug from my husband, who is already up scrambling eggs and looking for lost school books. We juggle filling up water bottles, quiz our fourth grader with flashcards, help our sleep resistant four year old find the only shirt she currently wants to wear, then three kisses, three hugs, as three backpacks head out the door.
It’s Thursday, which means we can linger over our coffee at the breakfast table, him picking my brain about work, me asking about campgrounds for next month’s getaway. We smile, laugh, relax into each other’s presence. Still in my pajamas, I kiss him as he packs up his laptop.