My Own Little Pity Party…And the Inspiration to Get Over It!
You’re home, he’s at work. Your 3-year-old has been wonderfully sweet to his baby brother today. But to you? A “NOOOO!” here and there. A rude tone at other times. Didn’t take a nap, but annihilated his room instead. No major infractions; a kid being a kid.
The baby? Not so much a baby anymore. ScrEEching when he doesn’t get what he wants (scissors are not for babies). But happily destroying anything in reach. He’s running, getting into every cabinet at eye level (but thankfully, you have no need to childproof, because there aren’t creepy chemicals around). Every storage container you own is on the floor, as well as the vinegar, a few vases and some pot lids.
You cook dinner so it’s ready at the precise moment your husband walks through the door. You think of the moment he enters: your apron securely fashioned, your hair done in that perfect bob…you’ll give him a “Hello, Dear,” and a big smootch, leg kicked up and all, when he walks through the door. Oh, Joan Cleaver, I have news for you…
You turn around to find the mess that baby boy has made to keep himself busy. With the 3-year-old’s considerable help.
Oy vey.
