“Hi, Mom!” “Bye, Mom!”

That pic­ture is fin­gers wav­ing to me from under our bath­room door.

I remem­ber when I was younger, I used to do the same thing to my mom.  I used to won­der what she could pos­si­bly be doing in the bath­room with­out me!  Didn’t she miss me?  Didn’t she wish I could be in there with her, too?  What was the point of pri­vacy anyway?

These mem­o­ries came flood­ing back to me the other night.  I was in the shower, and the two older boys were get­ting ready for bed.  First, Asa came in to get his tooth­brush.  Then, he left.  A cou­ple min­utes later, he came back in to rinse it and put it away.  Then, he left.  Then, Kael came in to get his tooth­brush, and I have no idea what hap­pened next, but he came in and left five times.  Each time, he said, “Hi, Mom!”  “Bye, Mom!”  He was so happy to be greet­ing me both on his way in and out.  Just want­ing to let me know he was there in case I didn’t know.

So sorry, Mom.  Very very sorry.