On Tuesday night my kiddos said goodbye to my mom for a while. We joined them after dinner for a little brownie dessert and a three-week-early birthday celebration (for me). Sneaky, sneaky.

I watched how my girls interact with my parents, the silly things my parents do and the immeasurable patience they have as they listen to Alyssa read her hand-written story eight times. And
I get ignored, which is perfectly okay because in those moments I'm the wallflower, the outsider, watching my amazing children.

Having babies and toddlers is difficult--they need you completely; whereas, hitting 5 or halfway through Kindergarten, as our marker seems to be, comes with independence. In some ways it has me longing for that neediness, but then I remember we adopted a toddler last year in the form of an orange tabby. There is something so glorious and wonderful about the ages five and eight. Maybe it's their curiosity about the world (heck, last night they were the ones glued to the State of the Union address), the constant evolution of their minds as they learn new math or reading skills that they are excited about, or the desire to still include me.

Just this week alone I've had the following questions from both girls:

• Who is my birth mother? 
• Is Elvis the leader of the Elf on the Shelf?
• Can we spend my 10th birthday in Washington D.C. and visit The Capitol? (Said while watching the State of the Union address.)
• Mom, why are those kids crying? (They didn't move through a UNICEF commercial, eyes wide.)
• Why is running water important to kids in Central America?

They see everything and absorb so much more than I can fathom. I see the love, the compassion, and honesty in them. I feel so lucky that I get to watch them grow.