It occurred to me the other morning that I’ve come a long way, baby, in terms of the whole helicopter parent thing. That, or maybe my life is just living proof of all those first kid vs. third kid infographics we see on the interwebs because I found myself in the kitchen, washing dishes, not really caring that it was far too quiet in the living room where RL and LT were playing. When I stuck my head in to check on them (still wearing my super fab purple rubber gloves)? I saw this:
(super fab gloves removed for photo opp)
Poor Baby Harrison. I would have never let him get away with such shenanigans (although he’s had plenty of his own shenanigans, thank you very much). I mean seriously – pull the folded laundry out of the basket so I have to do one of my least favorite chores again? No. But Third Kid Me? Yeah, she took off her rubber gloves, photo documented it, and then went back to the dishes thinking, “Welp, at least they are entertained and no one is screaming (yet).” And more truth? I was pretty impressed because that basket of folded clothes was totally sitting in the living room for a solid four days (maybe more?) before they got into it, so that’s awesome, right?!
These two Littles seem to be following a trend lately, as this is what they did last Friday (perhaps I was again trying to get dishes done? Or maybe I was packing for Omaha? Not sure, but I clearly I was in another room for this great fun of taking every.single.kid.book.off.the.ding.dang.shelves):
Like how LT is mugging for the camera? Goofers.
But remember when I pretty much lost my mind when Toddler HD destroyed his Busy Boxes or whatever we called them a couple – three?! holy c.r.a.p. – years ago? I’ve got to stop and recognize this progress and be so thankful for how much more contentment I’ve got in my life now, even as I find myself faced with more pieces and opportunities to come apart at the seams than ever before. Thank goodness for a different perspective. For amazing support systems. For coping mechanisms. For peace.