The Weight of Minutes Within Our 24 Hours

There are not enough hours in the day to get done what you need to get done on your adult to-do list. And there just aren't enough hours in the day to do all that there is to really do when you're a kid. I had to stop on a particularly patience-trying day and listen: My son told me that I'm his best friend when I took the time to puzzle the United States with him. My daughter chanted 'mom, mom, mom' when I stopped working to help them with a tea party that included Otter pops. That was a good day. There were a few other good scenes that stuck out as the days of moving, closing, taxing, graduating, working and shopping for more carrots than you'd think a boy of 45 pounds could eat, blurred by. 

Scene: Luncheon with the twins 
Jack:Mommy, I ate all, everything healthy.
Me: You only ate the pizza.
Jack: But it was healthy!
Me: Eat your vegetables and you can have a popsicle.
Jack: But I have to build.
Me: You need vegetables to build.
Jack:I just want to be back later.
Me: Why?
Jack: Because I will build something that eats my vegetables.

Do they make a Lego set for that?

Scene: Morgan attempts to share

Morgan: I want a popsicles. It's for Jack.
Me: You just had a popsicle.
Morgan: So did Jack.
Me: Then you don't need a popsicle.
Morgan: But my tummy says it wants popsicles, it's not for me. (Big dramatic sigh.)


Four-year-old show of respect

Jack put on loafers and underwear to greet his father returning from the work world. I encouraged him to put on a shirt, which he begrudgingly agreed to. Jack, not Scott, if that wasn't clear. My nudist son realizes that clothes = some sort of respect in our adult world. You're welcome, so says he.