She tucks the boys in every night after we pray. Even the eleven year old still likes to be tucked in. The thought of that makes me smile to myself as I begin to pick up what used to be the living room. At this moment, it was a fort. Or was it an airplane? I’m not really sure.

I can hear her telling the seven year old good night as I scoot his little table back into its corner. It sounds like he’s trying to stall. He’s a master at stalling at bedtime.

After all of these months, I know her routine well. She says goodnight to the boys, kisses them and tells them to have sweet dreams, then she goes into the bathroom for a few minutes of quiet alone time. This gives me time to finish the living room so we can sit and watch TV for a while before bed.

Every time I help out with something around the house, she tells me that I don’t have to do it. I always say, “I know.” I want to help her. I see how hard she works to make a wonderful home for her boys and I want to help her. I want to show her how much I appreciate what she does. And if I’m being completely honest, moments like these are my favorite. This is exactly what I’ve always wanted and have never had. Moments like this make me happy because I can feel us becoming a family. I love that.

She walks out of the bathroom as I’m just settling down on the couch. The living room is back. The fort (or airplane) is put away. I can’t wait to see what they come up with tomorrow.