I had to stifle a big ol’ yawn as I stared blankly out the rain-specked bus window this afternoon. The dull, gray cityscape gradually transitioned into dull, gray farmland — and despite my best efforts to “perk up,” I found myself slumping lower and lower into the thinly padded bench; eyelids growing heavier and heavier with each passing mile.
It’d been a long and tiring week…
Before I knew it though, the lumbering bus rolled to a stop, the doors opened, and I staggered out to our trusty old Buick.
Fast-forward roughly 8 and a half uneventful miles, and I found myself staggering out of our Buick and up the garage stairs into our home.
I fought back another yawn.
I was really dragging as I turned the knob and stepped into the kitchen. But then the most amazing thing happened:
I heard an excited little squeal coming from the living room.
Suddenly, almost as if by magic, I found that my batteries were fully charged; a silly grin carved its way onto my face; and as my little monkey came skidding around the corner to meet me, all semblance of weariness faded.
Exhaustion and stress, GONE.
We laughed. We giggled. We played. Lots of fun, and LOTS of squeals (coming from both the little monkey and her baby sister, the “mudge pudge”).
I really don’t know what it is about all those squeals, but, MAN — they just brighten my everything!
Today, and every day, I’m grateful for squealing little girls.
You also might like last year’s rant:
Cuz honestly, who doesn’t like to be thankful?!