Part of the conversation

Unsure if I am able to get to any updates for the next couple of weeks as I go into last-minute crazy times before school ends while packing for our family vacation, I cannot resist posting about one of the funniest things I have seen in a while.

After the girls’ piano lessons, the three amigos had a bit of free time while I diligently sorted the out of control mismatched sock pile. With the sunshine making it harder and harder to get the kids to bed before 8 pm, my tiredness of being on a set schedule, less homework to deal with, I am descending into summer mode.

The most tell-tale sign is that dinnertime has become much more relaxed the last couple of weeks. The kids are lucky to get a hot home-cooked meal. I am just simply, done for the school season. For example, tonight the choice on the menu is cheesy scrambled egg wraps or leftover spaghetti and meatballs. The kids choose the egg wraps.

Usually a strict 5:30 pm dinner time is being pushed later and later to 6:30 pm to coincide with Mr. L arriving home so I have some back-up as my voice has gone hoarse from telling my crew to please use their utensils, stop speaking all at once and just please, have a pleasant meal.

But I digress, deciding to attack the sock pile, I hate leaving tasks half-finished and vowed to get it done before I began the dinner dance. The kids run upstairs enjoying the free play time and right away the girls start pulling out stuffed animals from their toy chests, under their beds or whatever corner they have been hiding.

“Mom!! Guess what I found? Remember this bear?”

“Mom!! It’s Sweet Pea! I missed this one so much!!”

“That’s nice girls. You know all of that needs to be sorted and cleaned up before dinner?”

Before I know it, they are self-organizing their stuffed animals into keep, giveaway and put away in toy chest piles.

Hmmm…Maybe they were actually listening the four or five times a year I go on a rampage organizing their rooms.

Ten minutes later as they finish up a quick sorting, the joy and observation ability of the third, younger sibling shows itself. Jacob starts pulling all the stuffed toys from his overflowing toy box bringing each one downstairs.

“Mom! Look. I love her. It’s Sweet Pot.”

Five stuffed animals later, he settles upon a soft, blue bear he got as a present when he was born and has not looked at in his three years on earth.

“Mom! Look it’s Sweet Pot Pot. She is my favourite. She is very blue. She’s going to stay with me forever.”

I am going to dread going up to his room after dinner but I smile as I shoo them all downstairs to tidy up before dinner.

“She’s lovely Jacob. Sweet Pot Pot can help you tidy up your toys.”

Having three or more means accepting once one starts something, be it crazy laughter, sorting stuffed animals or eating with their hands, the other kids will follow. It also means allowing yourself to laugh as your cute three-year old boy, innocently copies his older sisters as they obsess over their hundreds of stuffed animals just so he can be part of the conversation.

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