“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…
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.