My son insists on eating breakfast in the bathroom, while I shower. He lines up his “friends” on the sill and eats by the window, between the toilet and the litter box (this may be why he never gets sick).
At times, I find it annoying. There are cinnamon toast crumbs, whipped cream smears and cranberry juice rings to clean up each morning. I never get to shower in privacy.
But this morning seeing him and his friends by the window filled me with something like joyful calm.
I had insomina last night from thinking about the past. This is a thing that happens, my brain does it’s indexing and won’t let me sleep because of it.
Last night, we were indexing our 14 year tenure in New York City. “How were the refrigerators positioned in our Bushwick apartments? Did I spend more time in Midtown, Union Square or below Houston? Which was the bathroom we painted gold?”
Then, “OMG we’re so old.” And, repeat.
To stop this torturous cycle, I lay down with each with my kids. I inhaled their scents, they still have nice smells most of the time.
It’s going fast now, they are 5 and 11, no-longer-baby and almost-teen. I am mindful of being mindful. Every day I make sure to enjoy them, love them, experience them, as they are, right now.
One day, maybe soon, Sid will give up his morning routine. And even though I’ve been known to moan about the mess and the lack of privacy, I know I’m gonna miss him when he stops eating breakfast in the bathroom.