Monday, January 4, 2010

Our own personal boogie man

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This was not the scene at our house tonight.

Tonight started out great.

Dad got home on time, the house was clean and dinner was cooking with a table set ready to go.

Family Home Evening went smoothly.  No opening song, but a great prayer and lots of children writing lots of thank you cards.

In the background, the Fiesta Bowl was playing on the television. (Nice win, Boise State!)

Dad and A.J. left for a late baseball practice. (Yes, baseball.  Crazy, I know!  They were inside in batting cages and on an actual infield!)

The kids and I had some quiet time, read scriptures, prayer, the family cheer and then off to bed.

I told Easton he could be tucked in first tonight.

I took him down and for some reason asked him, “Hey Easton, what is the best part of your life right now?”

He promptly answered, “That I have a family.”

If you know Easton, this is not an everyday thing, but when it comes out it is sweet and sincere.

Next, I headed up to tucked in all the girls.  As we sat on Madie’s bed, the girls and I discussed what their favorite things were in their lives.

Brooke’s was that she had a mom and dad.  Ellie said that she had a mom, dad, Nana, Papa, Grandma and Grandpa. (Good thing she didn’t list every uncle, aunt and cousin!)

And Madie couldn’t pick just one thing (which is a good thing for a teenager!)

Now for the boogie man part…as we sat on the bed having this sweet moment, Easton came tearing up the stairs, goose bumps all up and down his back, crying, and telling us that as he was falling asleep he heard a distinct bang on the end of his bed.  To see his eyes, was to truly feel his fear.

As we analyzed it over the next ten minutes, deciding right away that we would wait for dad to check downstairs, we think that it was probably Sadie’s tail, because she was in E-man’s room when I tucked him in.

This calmed everyone down somewhat.

The only problem was…Sadie was up with us girls discussing the good things in our lives.

Just don’t tell Easton.

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