Last night, POB (partner of blogger) and I had our usual Wednesday night date.  POB brought me flowers because I had been feeling down about the world and work (that is, prior to my vow of one month of cheerfulness).

When we got home, TLP (our son, the little prince) was still awake.  He had called each of us earlier in the day to tell us that his team won the finals in his sports group, he scored the winning run and everyone on his team got a medal. 

We rushed into his room, humming the Olympic anthem, as I handed him the flowers and POB found the medal and put it around his neck.  Then I announced, “Please stand for the national anthem.”  So, POB and I stood, with our hands over our hearts, singing (croaking, in my case) the Star Spangled Banner, as TLP looked up from his bed — somewhat shocked and maybe even horrified — with a bouquet of flowers on his chest, hand over his heart and his medal around his neck. 

When we finished, I asked, “hey, buddy, how was THAT?”  I, of course, was thinking we were being totally awesome parents.

“Um, great, E-mom, but I was really hoping for a Star Wars action figure.“

I am still glad I shared my flowers.