Pitter patter of little feet

My version of heaven:

I’m downstairs, working on my book. I hear Butter wake from his nap, climb out of his newly converted toddler bed, pad to the bathroom, pee, wash his hands, and start walking downstairs.

And it happened today.

Except the walking downstairs part. He played in the sink for a few minutes before I came up to greet and redirect him.

Just when I thought I might lose my mind from the 24-hour-a-day “on” child-rearing status of my brain, there is a light at the end of the tunnel. Complete adulthood (for me) is decades away,  but it’s there. Hills and valley betwixt there and here, but it’s there.

NB: ten minutes later he was screaming because I gently mentioned that, while lollipops taste good, they’re not really a post-nap snack food. And we don’t have any. Tantrum lasted twenty minutes.

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