small moments

Small moments of perfection happen. They happen when one of my children says something pure, hopeful, buoyant, poetic or smart. Or when they come looking for human warmth and affection.
I record them in a notebook, or simply memorize them. Here they are.

Noa is an empty barrel. He could eat and drink every ten minutes. I put a hold on his habit of constantly walking in the kitchen. Last week, he came in the kitchen, again, right after breakfast. Our dialogue has become a shortcut overtime, but this one was unique.

N- My belly hurts.
Mom- Noa, what are you asking for?
N- How do you say "crackers" in spanish?

Later on, belly full?, he spent time looking at the yard by the window and happily humming to himself:
"it's getting warmer, it's getting warmer"

We're in the laundry room as I fold clothes. The boys like to be there with me and talk and talk while I mumble "really? ooh! yes...um um....". Teva, in the poetic mood, starts:

T- Some kids are like trees. They grow alone with no father or mother.
Mom- Are you a tree?
T- No, I'm like an animal. Some animals, when they're older, can't be carried by their mom anymore. But then the dad comes and he's strong and he carries them.
M- ....(still listening)
T- You're a small mom so you can't carry me anymore because I'm four-years-old.

Somebody is already past the freudian admiration of the opposite-sex parent. My boy is growing and accepting the new baby.

Others things they blurt:
Noa: "You got married in outer-space!!!" (? can't explain this)
Teva:"I don't like girls but I'll still marry one"