October 9, 2011

Slow to Speak

“Mommy…come….come”  - waving his hand at me and motioning me towards his room.
Smiling like a Cheshire cat.
The room I had heard him playing in with his sister.
The room they had been in for at least fifteen minutes.

So I followed as he ran ahead of me, catapulting himself onto his bed
and jumping and smiling and singing and jumping
and giving me that knowing smile. 

Look what I did.
Look at my room now.

The room that was clean.
Operative word: clean.
Or maybe the operative word is “was”

15 minutes people.


My instinct was “what the frig happened in here!?!?!?”
My second thought was “what the friggity frackity happened in here!?!?!?
Then I remembered…
Slow to yell speak
Slow to freak out anger

YOU try it. See how far YOU get.

so I back peddled away from the instinct I am prone to
I sighed a heavy sigh that comes from tired mothers everywhere and said
“let me get my camera”

Oh, and I made him clean it up.
And he did. 

And nary an angry word was heard from either camp.
Imagine that.

1 comment :

Catherine said...

Each small step is a success! Your little guy is watching (oh how I know this!) and our reactions are mirrors to them as to how they should react in situations.

Great job mamma!