It's easy to get caught up in the "life is a living torment that I created for myself" grouchy pessimism when a certain toddler is sent screaming to his room for the umpteenth time in a morning. Just like the day before, and the day before that, and the day before that, and....
But that's not how the movie ends.
Some days, I wake up and something has changed. Big time.
This morning my son got out of bed, walked into my room, and crawled into bed with me to cuddle before it was officially "up and awake" time.
And I realized this was a vastly different morning than a typical morning from two years ago.
Suddenly my baby is a little boy running around like crazy trying to keep up with his older cousins. He negotiates stairs on his own. He demonstrates a very (too?) strong will. He has an inordinate love for all things fire truck. He rides his balance bike.
Somehow, the seemingly endless tedium doesn't seem so tedious anymore. Yes, often the days are the same, but then there are the days when time seems to go by too fast. It's those days when I notice the big changes that change me--for the better, I hope. They stir that desire to be ever-present to my son's life. To not take him for granted, and to not lose patience. He is growing up, and every day I have the privilege of being there to witness it.
What new miracle will happen tomorrow?
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