These are a few of my favorite things

When I look back on this vacation in San Diego, I'm sure that I will block out all memories of children's limp-legged, back-arched screaming fits and the intially musty smell of our funky little cottage. No visions of puffy faced pre-dawn wake ups or three glasses of spilled milk in a single meal will remain, nor will the sounds of Shawn Joaquin screaming "BUT I WANT TO I WANT TO IWANTTOIWANTO" lodge in my aural memory banks.

Instead, I will remember cuddling up on the outdoor sofa at 6:30am with Shawn Joaquin to enjoy books, coffee and milk. I will remember the first time he let a stranger touch him to paint his face and loudly and clearly told her his name. I will not forget him protectively screaming at me "SHE DOESN'T LIKE THAT! STOP TOUCHING MY SISTER!" when she cried as I took her to bed. I will remember that both children played nicely together, blocking out the reality of clotheslining, snatched toys and a sharp finger jabbed inside the ear to thwart a milk snatching.

But most of all I will have these memories, seemingly merely digital but already deep inside my long-term memory. The images I will call up when I can no longer remember my name or where the bathroom is, and begin to call my shoes "teeth." Even then, I will have these.