I slept through Sunday School again today. I had my head on my hand, and I kept nodding. I pretended like I was paying attention by telling myself that I had heard and understood the discussion. I would quiz myself on the last comment made. I was so sure that I was not asleep. I can’t even remember what the topic was. That’s what I get for staying up all night knitting and watching Bones.

I’ve come to this weird place where I must knit every night before I can go to bed, but since I’m not comfortable with the runaway spinning my mind has been doing lately, I have to have something to distract me. I guess I should get some books on CD, or make Derek read to me like we used to do every night. We still haven’t read the last Harry Potter. I actually haven’t finished New Moon, but that’s because I can’t read and knit at the same time. And I don’t know where it is, since we moved.

One of my children has the most precious laugh. I hate the word ‘precious’ because of it’s use in the phrase, “Awww! That’s so precious!” But that’s not what I mean. I’m thinking more along the lines of precious stones. When he laughs, I think of a cloth bag full of jewels; rubies, emeralds, sapphires, diamonds. The tinkling, joyful, sparkling sound is precious. It is irreplaceable. I hear him laugh and feel my insides getting fizzy. I have tickled him every single day since he was about 2 months old, when we first discovered the marvel of his laugh.

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