So I was at home spending time with the kids tonight. And Mary was out with the girls. Earlier Lisa called and said, Oh Jimmy, are you all alone and babysitting tonight? At which point I told her, no, that fathers don't "babysit," fathers father, and spend time with their kids. As if I were a hired hand for my children! But that is one for another evening.
So all was going well until Braden spilled all of his milk all over the kitchen floor. Now, normally I don't get mad, I mean, accidents happen to all of us right? But the way that this particular accident happened really could have been avoided. He was holding a sippy in just his teeth and flinging his head all around as if he were Ozzy and we were recreating Crazy Train.
Add that to the fact that at that very moment I heard a terrifying scream coming from upstairs, no doubt from Lissie who had been taking abuse from Scott.
And so I got mad. I did. I barked at Braden, "Dang it! Clean this mess up now! I'm going to save your sister!" And I ran past little Sarah, with those tiny, wide eyes that were just about to fill up with instant tears that rip at your soul.
When I got things settled upstairs, I came back down to check on the damage in the kitchen. Both of the wee ones had gathered all of the washcloths (about a dozen) and were doing their best to mop up the split milk. 
When I came around the corner I was surprised to see them doing this but more surprised to realize that this was my command and that they were merely obediently following orders.
When I came around the corner I was surprised to see them doing this but more surprised to realize that this was my command and that they were merely obediently following orders.I resolved right then and there to try and not let small accidents ruffle my feathers and get in the way of what is most important in family life, expression of love and an environment conducive to receiving love.
I know that I am far from perfect. Times like these just show me how far.
