My four-year-old burst out of his room, toothpaste smeared across his shirt, and his sneakers mismatched on his feet. Behind him, my toddler followed, his hair and shirt drenched.
“What happened?” I inquired, a knot forming in my stomach as I realized we were already running late. My irritation bubbled over.
The four-year-old, completely unaware of my frustration, exclaimed, “I went potty, got dressed, and brushed my teeth!” He hopped around, brimming with pride.
In that moment, I realized he had accomplished all these tasks independently, something I had been encouraging him to do for ages. This was a positive development—an important milestone.
“Breathe, just breathe,” I reminded myself, trying to regain composure. I remembered a friend’s post on social media: “My daughter, Emma, was so thrilled to show me how strong she was that she accidentally broke a brand-new crayon in half. When I asked her why, her joy faded, and she cried, saying, ‘I just wanted to show you!’”
Emma’s crayon incident rang a bell. I had to remind myself that my son wasn’t trying to sabotage our schedule; he was eager to be self-sufficient. He had even attempted to style his little brother’s hair, which explained the wet mess.
Taking a deep breath allowed that tightness in my stomach to loosen. His shoes could be switched later, and his shirt would inevitably get dirtier throughout the day. This was minor—nothing to stress over.
Honestly, we weren’t late because of him; it was a blend of having three little ones, my own poor time management, and the simple chaos that comes with parenting. As I was contemplating this, my youngest squatted down, turning red and grunting. And just like that, we were officially late.