At least he's learning

I had a long, long day yesterday. Nothing horrible happened; the kids were well behaved (or at least I didn't feel like drop kicking them out the door for the moose to trample), I did most of the things on my to-do list, and the weather was decent. I suppose was just tired. And I felt overwhelmed. So after dinner, I scooted back my chair, stood up, surveyed the damage in the kitchen and living room, remembered it was bath night, and promptly collapsed in a heap on the floor (purposefully - I didn't faint or anything. And I made sure I was on carpet before I did so.)

Millie, who is only two and does not fully understand the concept of drama (which is surprising, seeing as how she adds a great deal of it to my everyday life), began to fuss, no doubt worried for her poor, sad mama. Riley was strangely silent. Adam just wanted to know what was wrong.

"It's too much! I don't know where to start!" I moaned from my fetal position.

Cue Riley.

"Well, first you should get up and take your dishes to the sink. I always take my dishes to the sink right after I eat. You don't need to freak out about it, Mom. So stop freaking out. It's not a big deal!"

I didn't see the expression on his face as he gave me this little speech, but I imagine it was fraught with mock exasperation. He may have even muttered the word "goofball." I couldn't quite contain my laughter as I hauled myself up and collected my plate. "You're absolutely right," I told him. "Thank you very much."

So I got a dose of reality. From my five-year-old. That could have made it a pretty bad day indeed.

Except that it made it a great one.