I shared this with a few folks on FB earlier today, and I thought I’d preserve it here:
I gave Baby G. a grilled cheese sandwich and a few tater tots for dinner tonight. We were both tired, him from a a nap strike yesterday and me, from well, everything. All went well until I turned my back, he got hold of the salt shaker, and suddenly there was a white coating of salt all over his food, all over the table, and starting to work its way to the floor. Even as I said “Baby G. Stanley Cornelius! What are you doing!” too loudly and anxiously, I could hear my mother’s recent advice: “don’t yell at him, he doesn’t know any better”. And really, I wasn’t yelling at him, because she’s right, he doesn’t know any better. If I was yelling at anyone, it was at me for leaving the salt shaker within his reach. He didn’t know that… a for a few minutes, he started to cry. It was but a moment, but not one of my best.
They say that life is what happens while you are waiting for your plans to come true. Today feels like parenting is what happens while you are waiting to get some more sleep.