Tuesdays are, for the most part, my “home” days. I’ve been hitting the Rise and Shine spin class (at 5:15 am – eek!) so I can get home earlier and begin our homeschool day earlier. You know, that whole trying-to-make-the-best-use-of-our-time thing.

So this morn, I returned home at seven, showered up, loaded the dishwasher and was just about to line the boys up for the Pledge of Allegiance when the middle lad asked the question of the day.

“Will you play with me?”

Now I spend loads of time with my kids, so mom-guilt is pretty minimal around here, but you know what I don’t always love to do?

PLAY WITH THEM.

For starters, I stink at coming up with pretend scenarios. They must grow weary of me putting a cat up a tree for Heatwave the Fire-bot to rescue. For someone who embraces creativity as much as I do, you’d think I could produce some new material. But alas, the kitties continue howling in the maples.

So this morning, when Reed asked if I would play with him as I pushed the dishwasher drawer shut, my first thought was to dodge the bullet. I thought about changing the subject to school work or magically producing a snack to buy some time. But then I remembered a simple saying my husband and I remind each other of several times a week: Say yes when you can.

“Find your flip-flops, boys,” I announced as I slid open the patio door and headed for the trampoline.

My three little ducks filed out behind me and climbed the ladder to the mesh and metal launchpad.

We jumped and spun. We flipped and flopped. We wiggled and jiggled.

Okay, they wiggled and I jiggled.

And you know what?

It was dang fun.

I ended up all sweaty again and I have a wicked mesh-burn on my right elbow and I learned I need to invest in a new sports bra, but overall it was a rockin’ good half hour.

Even better is that the boys have been all huggy and lovey on me ever since I said yes.

I spend a lot of my home time at the school table, the stove, or the laundry basket. I’m not one bit worried that my kids will forget that I taught them and cooked for them and laundered their clothes.

But you know what scares the pants off me? The idea that they might not remember me whoopin’ it up all wild-haired in the backyard.

I want them to know that side of me too.

There are plenty of moments in parenthood when we have to say no or not yet or not like that, but this morning, I’m grateful to have claimed a yes.

I’m pretty sure the boys are, too.

What activity would you like to say yes to more often? What “yesses” would mean the most to your family?