If there is one lesson I’d love to teach my children immediately, it’s this:
Get. out. of. my. way.
I know that sounds harsh, but if you have multiple small children, you must relate. Please.
It starts off with them running up and grabbing my leg, asking nicely for milk. Milk? Sure, no problem. You used your manners. I’m all about that. But then I have to fulfill the request, which goes something like this:
Okay, you need to let go now if I’m going to move. And don’t cross in front of me while I’m walking or we’ll both trip on one of the 5,000 toys you scattered throughout the house during your play date. No, it’s not a race to the refrigerator. Listen, if you stand in front of the door, I can’t get the milk. No, no, you don’t need to stand on the counter to get a cup. I will grab the cup. You need to move so I can get the cup. No, not in front of me, because then I can’t reach it. Go sit at the table and wait. No, don’t crawl through my legs, because you’re going to make me spill the milk I just spent 5 minutes getting because you keep. getting. in. my. way. FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, CHILD! MOVE!
I don’t actually yell that last part. Well, I do in my head. But in my kids’ future therapy sessions, that won’t count.
My favorite part is when they add to the chaos by repeating the request. Over. And over. And over. Egad, child! I heard you the first time! That’s what started this ridiculous debacle, in an attempt to quench your thirst. And you would have your liquid refreshment if you would stop hovering around me like a swarm of locusts. Patience is a virtue. One that you need to learn. And Mommy maybe needs to work on. Maybe.
I don’t know how you manage to somehow run amok, surrounding me in concentric circles of small children, and yet simultaneously move like the poky little puppy. You’re running around me at top speed, weaving in and out of my path, and yet I can’t seem to move more than two feet in a minute because I’m constantly trying to navigate around you and if you don’t stop I’m going to lose my ever-loving mind and you’ll never get your milk!
Sigh. Regaining composure. I know that someday, they won’t want to be around me all the time. (That’s why I’m hiding in their suitcase when they go to college.) Someday, I will miss the pitter patter of little feet, because their feet won’t be so little and chubby and cute. They might be big and stomping away because I said I wouldn’t extend their curfew. And right now, I am listening to the pitter patter of Smush’s feet as she comes to push keys on the keyboard.
6y-5-64-e—=———-=——rgu3487gf547g734w773575437437f45r77437457789gv574ye4w3f85474g537g5474g37w7gg45g5t73w7784u3t7fcv 7gf43773q6tf46t3f34w3wf r 6wefc
Maybe being surrounded by swarms of my children isn’t that bad.