There are little sparklies everywhere. While some may be inclined to suggest that this is simply my brain on irregular sleeping patterns, it is actually the result of two small girls and their Nana, having a good time making snowflakes that sparkle. And having such a good time in fact, that glitter has been scattered to every corner of my small and humble abode. The carpet is alive with hidden gems. As is the couch, the chairs, the kitchen table, the baby's hair, the mom's face, the dad's face and the bodies of the other three children. It gives a kind of nether-world charm to the events of the moment.
The bummer is that although we have all of this fairy dust around, no one has shown a hint of being able to fly about the house and out the windows with ease. This has nothing to do with the fact that all of our windows except for one are screened. We just aren't able to get off the ground. It's not a lack of faith, at least on the kids part. Why shouldn't they fly?
Well, actually, everyone is pretty good at the moment at flying off the handle. Why is this? My children all have a sudden desire to return to an infantile state, one that does not include any of the charming moments of their younger years, as soon as a new sibling enters the house. We have had our fair share this past week of tears and outbursts, talking-back and outright tantrums that have scared the one year-old, but led him to experiment with that kind of flailing show himself. Fortunately he is a happy child and tantrums do not become him and so we laugh at him and he will usually laugh back after a moment.
It's not an easy thing, this growing up. And even though you are the same age as you were the day before the new baby was born (give a day or two or three) your place in the family somehow shifts and everybody has to adjust. So we're thick into the adjusting phase. I think the key is this: we just have to let things be where they are, and let the fairy dust sparkle where it's at.