In the past few weeks, I've started to understand how people become that crotchety, old neighbor who sits on the porch and screams at kids to stay off her lawn. There have been moments recently when F is crying for no apparent reason, T is throwing a tantrum because his banana is "broken" and my house is a total disaster that I look around and wonder how in the world I got here. In those moments, I've taken to singing this song to myself:
And then I take a deep breathe and try to solve my riddle. Usually by the end of the day, one or both of the boys has done something so precious that it makes it all worthwhile. It often takes a conscious effort on my part to remember to have fun though. I don't want to turn into one of those mothers who only corrects and never cuddles.
I'll leave you with this fun little exchange:
Me: T, why do you have a bandaid on your face?
T: 'Cause Aidan scratched me.
Me: He did? Why did he do that?
T: 'Cause I pulled his hair.
Me (stifling a giggle): Well, I guess you shouldn't pull his hair then.
T: He took my toy.
Me: Right, but that doesn't mean you should pull his hair. You have to share the toys.
Boys ... fun.
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