It was a lovely Friday morning.
Then a piercing screech broke the sound barrier. I jumped from my bed, and yanked open the door. My darling boy was standing in the hallway, mouth open wide, crocodile tears falling.
I'm sure there was English and not curse words in his garbled words but to my sleep addled brain that was looking for blood, broken limbs or giant-hairy spiders I couldn't understand a word.
Finally, after trying to calmly explain that I couldn't understand what he was trying to tell me and could he please stop yelling. He let me know that he couldn't "fix his bed"
Nope, ladies, the hand-crocheted white and blue little blanket someone lovingly made him was being a right pain and he could not straighten it out properly on top of his quilt and make it pretty... it was supposed to be "clean and fresh, forever" (his words). At which point he asked me to fix it for him while he went downstairs.
Needless to say, my morning routine was a bit broken, especially when he started screeching again that he: a. didn't want to change his clothes, b. didn't want to go to daycare, c. did want to change his clothes.
When exactly did he learn this screeching? It seems new to me? At which point did my lovely morning turn into a pounding headache with a twitch behind my left eye?
And.... it wasn't until I got to the office, sat down in my chair that I realized.... I didn't brush my teeth this morning. Really? REALLY? Now I have to sit here with nasty breath, hairy teeth AND a headache.
Wisdom is founded on memory; happiness on forgetfulness. ~ Mason Cooley
I don't know who this guy is.... but I bet he was never a mother of a 4 soon to be 5 year old.