Have Breakfast with Me

For all the bad press the age of 2 gets, I’m finding three has been more of a challenge. Sure, at two Love Bug would dramatically fling himself to the floor, but his last stand usually didn’t last too long and we could get on with our lives. Now, he is a threenager, with all the sass and great big opinions but very little control over what actually happens. Lately, he became so tyrannical I took to calling him the names of historical dictators. “Excuse me, Stalin, but I will not turn on the TV right now.” “Calm down Fidel, I’m mixing your chocolate milk right now.” Of course, he doesn’t understand but I get a kick out of it. Fortunately, all is not bleak demands of a threenager tyrant. Most mornings I eat my scrambled eggs standing at the kitchen counter because I’m always running off to do something else, so why bother sitting down? One morning last week, as he was eating his oatmeal, Love Bug says to me, “Sit down Mommy and have breakfast with me. You should sit and rest.” I just about made my eggs soggy, tears filling my eyes. Such a simple gesture, but said so sweetly and emphatically (he would not take any of my excuses), it warmed my heart.

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