Small victories are my daily bread, whether they are boys getting dressed by themselves, preschoolers spontaneously problem-solving or Husband cooking dinner unasked, they are what I live for, and what I am thankful for. I’m also thankful that they are common occurence.

This morning’s victory was sponsored by starch, and brought to me by my youngest son. A recent spate of icky belly was brought on by reasons unknown, but the suspects included different foods or the water at the coast, or a bug, I suppose. Anyhoo, he normally wears underpants except for his prime times, but icky belly required all-day diapering -until today. After kissing Daddy good-bye and denying that he is dirty (but patting his pants for confirmation nonetheless), Husband is impressed and relieved when I tell him that “it’s a piece again”, to which he replies “well that’s something”. And as simple as that, we are done with the extra nappies and a world of unease.

On the flipside, my chronically clingy youngest goes into fits over nothing at all because I won’t pick him up, or if I do, I am not allowed to be sitting or kneeling when I do it. And so I offer to carry him around if he will sit on the potty, or he should go and play lego with his brothers. Neither seem a good deal so he is not forthcoming with answer, and so I try to persuade him by waiting in the bathroom. Of course, then he chooses to play by himself, but i can’t go and grab me some entertainment because my non-sneaky squeaky sneakers will give me away and start the whole sorry arguement over again.

To tip the balance, I can have hugs and kisses anytime I ask for them because he is always at my side, and I don’t mind trading housework to carry him around for a few minutes, but wait, then he says “no more kisses” but I’m not allowed to put him down. I think there is a miracle in there but maybe not a victory, doh!