Wednesday, February 22, 2012

It's Monday night. The little boys are in bed.  I'm tucked in bed (because I'm fuh-reezing) working on my ESL class for Wednesday.  I hear Sam in the bathroom (which is connected to our room).

After a bit, he calls out to me, "How many times have you listened to that song, Mom?"

"Probably five," I say, as I turn my music way down.

"I love you, Mom."

I'm a little confused about why he chooses that as a response.  I feel bad for probably annoying him so I just say, "Sorry!"

"Hey, it's okay.  I do that all the time."

The song?
The Luckiest by Ben Folds Five on Grooveshark
I'm a little obsessed with these lyrics:

Next door there's an old man who lived to his nineties
And one day passed away in his sleep
And his wife; she stayed for a couple of days
And passed away
I'm sorry, I know that's a strange way to tell you that I know we belong

That I know

How do people do it?  Write such beautiful, moving songs?  I'm in awe.

I'm glad Sam is okay with my playing songs over and over, because I'm pretty sure I'm going to have to keep doing it.