July 26, 2012 by CassieCravings
I was standing at the sink washing dishes. I was lost deep in thought over not so particularly fabulous morning. I glanced out the window as Eli happily filled his dump truck with water and dumped it. He had repeated the same pattern for nearly 20 minutes. I called out to him from the open kitchen door. He grunted a response. He was just as lost in his thoughts as I was.
I drifted back into the mental checklist and scheduling of the rest of the day. If I stayed up until Saturday morning without bathroom breaks or looking up from my list, I just might get done with everything…well, everything marked priority that was.
I began prioritizing my list, flagging must-to-do’s all the way to wouldn’t-it-be-nice’s.
“Mama, I water ‘da f’woor!” snapped me back to the kitchen.
Before I had a chance to ask if I had heard what I thought I heard, I jumped around the counter just in time to fall smack on my rear. I sat in a
puddle lake in my kitchen floor.
In front of me was a sopping wet and naked 2 year-old and a water hose. They were planted smack in the middle of my kitchen.
I scrambled my bruised behind to standing and snatched the water hose back outside.
“Eli,” I sighed, “Water hoses most certainly do not belong inside the house.
“Oh. Sorry, my Mama,” his bottom lip drooped nearly to his knees. He shivered in the cool air of the a/c. I sighed again.
I commanded that he stand still and armed myself with every towel that was not currently in the washing machine.
We spent the next few minutes soaking water into our towels, ringing them outside and laying them out on the washer. I reworked that priority list.
Eli was quiet.
“It was just an accident,” I smiled.
“It’da mess. I water ‘da f’woor. I water ‘da g’wrass. It’da really, really mess. I loves you.”
I swooped up my little adventuresome, mischievous, lovable boy and kissed his moping cheeks.
“It can be washed. It will be fine,” I assured him.
It wasn’t long, and my floor was sparkling and dry, the towels were washing, and my little one was sitting on the counter eating a snack and telling me a story while I finished the dishes.
What a morning!
I must say that chatting with my little one about “din’dasaurs” while scrubbing pots and pans is much more delightful than my mental, never ending, overwhelming list, even if it was a water hose in the kitchen that brought us together.