We are leaving tonight for Virginia. I am scurrying around like a rat after ... whatever rats eat ... in preparation for my brother's overnight stay as he watches my kids. The sheets are changed; the bathroom has been scoured; I even broke out the Febreze for that extra-special-freshness that my kind-hearted brother deserves. Of course, being the procrastinator that I am, I left the worst chores for last: the Kitchen Hole. A while ago we turned off Sesame Street and I told the kids to go play, hoping desperately for a day like yesterday -- one of those good, good days when you're happy with your decision to have had children. The Patron Saint of Well-Behaved Angelic Children (is there one? There must be -- there's one for everything, it seems) must be smiling on me, for we're on a good streak here.
I was vacuuming the kitchen floor, in preparation for a good hosing down, so I couldn't hear what was being said by the kids in their room. But when I turned off the vacuum, I heard Aidan's sweet little voice, speaking gently and lovingly to his sister. "Awwww," I though to myself. "Blessed art me among mothers!" I listened for a little while longer as I wiped down my stove, basking in the angelic glow emanating from their bedroom, but then that "blessedness" started to prickle as I heard more of what was going on ...
"OK, Grace, now watch me. See? Look where my hands are. Now you try it. OK, now lift your leg up here ... Good girl, Gracie!"
Forget playing sweetly together.
My son was teaching my daughter how to climb out of her crib!
Oh, what a day for this kind of lesson, with Uncle Jim coming -- a man who was promised that my children are fine in their room, that bedtime is a snap, that Grace cannot get out of her crib and what's more, has never even tried.
Maybe going out of state tonight isn't such a bad idea. :)
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