Conflicted

There are days. There are days that go so wonderfully well. There are days that are filled with sunshine and music and laughter. Today was one of those days.

We woke up and had a leisurely morning because we had no plans to leave the house today. Luke and Weston are always so thrilled to see each other in the mornings and it's nice when I don't have to rush that reunion. Weston decided he'd like to nap early, so he fell asleep and then, Luke and I got to sing. We got to draw designs in cornstarch. We got to turn on some music and dance around on the landing at the top of the stairs. There were moments, during all this, that I wished I could capture, freeze, so I could revisit them during the difficult times.

There are days. There are days that go so very poorly. There are days that are filled with conflict and tears and a complete dearth of reason. Today was also one of those.

He stated that penguins have holes in their hands and when I tried to ask him what he meant, he jumped around and yelled, "Nooooooooo!" He wanted me to stay upstairs while he played downstairs by himself and when I explained that really, it was lunchtime and I needed to get our food ready, he threw such an unholy fit that I had to carry him, kicking and screaming, down the stairs because I was worried that otherwise, he'd fall down them in the midst of all his jumping and writhing. He didn't want to eat his cauliflower and when I said, "Ok, I'll eat it then," he kicked the table and informed me that he wanted to put it RIGHT THERE in the middle of the table and save it for his friend. He informed me that he was a growing child, and would very much like a boiled egg, but when I went to put in an egg to boil, he yelled that he wanted an egg with a WHITE shell instead of an egg with a BROWN shell. (Guess which kind we had.) And then, THEN, he ate the yolk of one egg and then decided that the other egg was "real." And the "real" egg was his friend. And he wanted the "real" egg friend to take a nap with him. In his bed.

There are days that leave me exhausted and wishing that I had an outside job to go to, a place where I could expect to deal with reasonable adults, a place where I might get a coffee break every now and then. There's a voice that reminds me that if I did have that job, I would have missed out on the dancing.