My son is in the living room watching his 'start of the weekend treat' show before heading to dreamland. My husband is in the bedroom watching some type of sporting event and likely reading some sort of financial publication. I am in the kitchen, the hub of the house, listening to my incredibly capable and talented friend Melisa spin tunes on KXCI, taking me to another realm allowing me to leave the work week behind.
We are all together in the same house, but all in our own little world.
Every now and then I hear an over powering cackle of a laugh that my husband genetically passed down to our son which means they have cross contaminated each others worlds, playing some sort of game that I most likely don't want any part of. I am certain that it has to do with tossing a child onto a bed or the testing of gravity in a way that would make my stomach drop.
I am content and I must say, it feels pretty damn good.
