~giving myself permission to wear my comfy and cozy flannel nightgown all day long.
~putting forth the effort to make those traditional cinnamon rolls (with that cozy cinnamon-y warm smell) to welcome them all home and out of the snow.
~to agree with Isaac that the popping sound eggs make when they are frying is a very happy sound indeed.
~sinking my head into the softness and comfort of the down pillows on the bed.
~ for Keith reaching out his hand across the bed in search of mine.
~kissing the smooth, rounded head ("the globe of knowledge and wisdom") of a sweet little son.
~hearing him earnestly and innocently ask me where I thought the "other creatures" like the Tooth Fairy and the Easter Bunny (not including Santa. That one's a no brainer.) live. We decided that perhaps this is a mystery that will probably remain unsolved. But wouldn't it be special to personally be invited by Santa to visit his home in the North Pole?
~listening to the sound of happy, pleasant teenage conversation down below.
~hot tears brimming these eyes. Not tears of sadness or grief or pain. More like those of a welcoming rain to a parched and thirsty soil-soul.