I hope I can remember these sweet moments...my son, at 3 1/2, eating ice cream (hard earned ice cream--he had to finish his dinner for that!) at the kitchen table, at 8pm in summertime, with our rat terrier Edith nipping at his ankles, praying to her canine God that he drops some. Which he inevitably did. It's a not-so-delicate eco-system--stuff gets dropped, spilled, and eventually gets either cleaned up by me or Daddy, or licked up by Edith. This has been an exercise in some weird kind of Zen for an OCD Taurus like myself.
I hope I remember these moments and not the silly self-imposed stressful moments dealing with things like work and house-keeping and bills and finance and...things that when I look at Ellis eating ice cream at dusk in summertime, the summer before he starts pre-school---just don't matter all that much.
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