"Mommy, I had a great day."

I was lugging a Rubbermaid container out of my bedroom, thinking about the pile of outgrown kids' clothes in the spare room that needed to be sorted by size, the unwashed dishes next to the sink and the schoolwork waiting for me downstairs. I muttered "Goodnight" to Christopher as I walked out, wondering vaguely why the hell he was in my bed.
But his little voice stopped me in my tracks.
"Mommy, I had a great day today."
I put the container down and turned slowly to face him. "What?"
He was grinning at me sleepily. "I had a great day."
I would have thought that he had...kind of a crappy day. He woke up with a fever of 102. His brother pulled his hair and pinched him about six times. I wouldn't let him go outside to play, and he wanted to see his friends so much that he kept picking up the phone and dialing random numbers, hoping to miraculously find one.
But we also made his first paper chain so that he could count down the days to his birthday. He did his first scavenger hunt, following pictures torn from an IKEA catalog around the house until he came upon the Emperor Zurg toy that I had hidden from him. We read a million books. And he watched about three hours of TV somehow, which is always a good day for him.
But really, we didn't do much of anything. And maybe that's what made it such a good day for him. I think he likes to just hang out more than I do. Maybe because he sees the house as a giant toy-filled playground to explore, and I see it as a building full of chores I haven't done yet. Maybe, maybe.
I walked over and kissed him on the cheek, told him I had a great day too, and went downstairs to start on my night's work.