Someone to throw my son the ball at recess.
Family dinners that last more than three minutes and that involve willing ingestion of vegetables that aren’t carrots. Barring that, the creation of vegetables that look and taste like carrots but are actually Brussels sprouts.
A reasonable explanation for the socks found in odd corners of my house and why only I seem to be able to see them and relocate them to the proper laundry facility. (There is only one laundry facility in this house, but I’d happily bring dirty socks to the neighbor’s house if it meant not finding them in couch cushions, on bathroom counters, and in my baking drawer for some reason.)
My other son to find contentedness, and, with that, a good night’s sleep.
My daughter to always sing to herself.
My sons to continue to love playing the piano. May their fingers find the correct notes swiftly and more frequently.
My husband to not have to work seven days a week. Even on the days he’s not working, he’s working.
Longer walks for my dog, more squirrels for him to chase, and more neighborhood dogs for him to tussle with (in a friendly way).
Independence from the good opinions of others. Or the bad ones.
Easy access to that “It’s Friday afternoon!” feeling.
Days in our pajamas with no one coming to the door.
The ability to walk around strapped to a heated car seat. Because I love the heated car seat.
A scented candle that makes me as happy as the people in the scented candle commercials seem to be.
Pampers to stop running those Silent Night commercials because I burst into tears every single time.
Inner peace that feels like a sunrise, full of promise. Or a sunset, with lush accomplishment.
A lifetime of saying “I love you” and wanting to be around each other
Tupperware with semi-attached lids that never get lost and close like a soft-close toilet seat.
The desire to play Monopoly as much as my son wants me to play Monopoly.
Ease when best, and challenge when needed.
Fresh air and laughter and love.
Happy New Year.
I will be back at the end of next week.