My Empty Skirt

I can't tell you how many times this summer that I'd be in the kitchen making pancakes for breakfast when the boys would come barrelling into the room wielding plastic swords. An eruption of squeals and laughter trailed behind them as they dashed toward one another in battle.

My head would spin and I'd shout "No running in the kitchen, settle down!" as they bumped into me and I'd dodge the splashing pancake batter from the jostled bowl. My heart would beat faster, my frustration rising. Can't a woman make breakfast in peace?

Without fail, Koen would dive under my long dress, as I'm known to wear in the heat of summer. It just so happens to make the perfect shelter for a 4-year-old boy hiding from his big brother. The folds of fabric always take him in and without fail, he'd wrap his little body around my leg, giggling and shouting "Protect me, mom!"

My long skirt billowed over him and Griffin always darted for him. Grabbing the fabric and pushing me around in the process "Get out of there, Scallywag!" he'd yell. Then they'd fight under me. Plastic swords shaking my skirt like curtains on a stage. Jostled and exasperated from the long summer days, I'd fuss to no end and scoot them out of the room.

It happened just this morning. As I made breakfast for their first day of school but today was different. In my heart, I know that the days of my dress providing shelter are numbered around here. Even though these kids make my blood pressure sky rocket, it's an honor to be here to witness the everlasting battles that are waged from under my dress.

They feel safe there, with me towering over them.

Now they are at school and the house is quiet. My skirt is empty and I can't wait for them to come home, grab their swords, and dive back in.