I had one of those stellar parenting moments yesterday. We were having an awful Monday, but at some point I managed to spend a few minutes alone in the front yard, cutting lilac blooms, while Cash used his stamps at the kitchen table. A moment of peace.
It was short-lived because our trashy neighbors (you know the ones) decided to spend that 5 minutes yelling at their 3 year-old across the street. They sat on the front steps (as they do most of every day) watching their son cry a few houses down because his new training-wheeled bike was stuck in the mud and he needed help.
They kept yelling, "You can do it! Figure it out!"
But not in that nice, encouraging way. More in that, "I don't want to get off my butt to help you, so you're on your own, kid" sort of way.
For a moment I tried to be understanding. Maybe their day was going as poorly as mine was. Toddlers can drive you insane. But pretty quickly my sympathy turned to, "get off your butt and help your kid!"
And then I came inside and brought my high horse with me. And there was Cash. Stamping. And he immediately whined and asked me to help him get one of my stamps out of the box. He couldn't do it. He was stuck.
And I said, "Just use the other stamps." Because I was too busy with my lilacs to help him.
He asked me a few more times in that screechy, whiny voice. And as I walked upstairs to put my sweet-smelling lilac blooms in the bathroom I snapped something like, "You can do it! Figure it out!"
I immediately saw the irony and burst out laughing.
P.S. And I sewed that sheet for Story's crib.
