Hard work

Every morning, I watch my almost toddling toddler begin his hard labor. This work will be constant throughout the day, but he starts every morning in a frenzy to make up for the hours spent on his stomach sleeping. First is reasserting his friendship with his seventy pound mutt. After a lot of mutual kisses and pats, they can go back to ignoring each other until mid-morning, when their affection needs to be reestablished. Then there is a lot of stacking to do and toys to move. Blocks and small ocean themed bath toys need to be put in boxes and taken back out. Rings need to be stacked, scattered and reassembled. There is a pause for reading. Then on to the music making and hitting of stationary objects with the xylophone stick. All the while he narrates his work with la(s) and na(s) and bbb(s). Shoes need their laces put dutifully inside them. Dog toys need to be stashed under bookcases.

Twenty minutes is a lot of time to fill.

Published by Caroline Mitchell Carrico

I am a writer, mom, and museum enthusiast in Memphis. Also a fan of reading all the words, cooking all the vegetables, and watching all my kids' soccer games.

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