Scene: We get home from school, and I told Jack I had to go potty, which then prompted him to say he had to go potty. When asked if I could go first, he said he had to go first. Okay, perfect. We head into the bathroom, and Jack proceeds to take off all of his accessories so as not to drop them in the toilet (we have learned our lesson). Yesterday Jack wore a t-shirt, jeans, his cowboy hat, cowboy boots, five skinny, stretchy headbands of mine as necklaces, and my watch around his upper arm (I'm trying to allow him to feel like he has some control in his life friends, stay with me).
About what felt like three minutes into the whole ordeal of taking off the accessories (involving taking off each and every one of the skinny, stretchy headbands separately and gingerly setting it down on the floor), I said something like, "Jack, Mommy's going to go first because it doesn't really seem like you're hurrying and I really have to go potty."
Jack looks at me with a very serious expression and says, "Mommy, Jack is hurrying."
A not so subtle reminder to me that my quick is certainly not the same as his quick, and I shouldn't expect it to be (he is two!). Patience is a virtue.
God - grant me patience and thank You for allowing me to be the mommy of this beautiful little boy who left me speechless yesterday in our powder room.
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