As a parent, I have often thought about the various ages of my kids and which time periods of their lives were my favorite.
Age four was good. They were done with the need for control and just loved to be helpful and cuddly.
Age seven was awful. This was the age when they were exposed to other kids’ bad behavior at school and decided to try it out on their own.
Right now, I have to say, I like 12. Twelve is the age where they are capable of a lot, still appreciate me and what I can do for them if they are nice to me, want to make me happy and haven’t yet begun to think I was put on this earth to make them miserable.
Last night I put out the bag of plain, organic, 7-grain hot cereal on the counter to remind me to make it for breakfast. With the trip coming up, I’m trying to clear some things out of the pantry and in the fog of the morning often forget my best laid plans. Domo saw it sitting there and said, “Are you making that for breakfast? I’m going to sleep so good tonight knowing that’s what we’re having. I love that hot cereal!”
This morning, I overslept. I leaped out of bed to find him cooking the cereal himself. When I came in the kitchen he said, “Do you think dad will want any because I know you’ll have your regular breakfast and it says here on the package it will feed four hungry folks! By the way, here’s your coffee!” And then… he cleaned up the kitchen! He knew it was his week to do so, but it still was wonderful to have it done!
Mornings like that make my smile all day. Well, at least I’m still smiling at 10:30am…
