It's Been...a Morning.

At breakfast, Tyler threw his sippy cup across the table, which sent Tucker's bowl of raisin bran flying. I mandated Tyler's help in cleaning it up, so he was on the floor with paper towels while Tucker cried in his chair. (He routinely doesn't eat his raisin bran, but the absence of it broke his heart.)

Next, we all sat on the bathroom floor, as Tucker sat on the potty. I read book after book after book, while Tucker listened and listened... but did not produce. Anything.

When I went upstairs to get dressed, leaving Tuck to have some 'privacy' (just in case that's what he's waiting on), I came back down to find everyone soaking wet. Apparently, my two children took certain liberties with Molly's water dish, but I cannot be sure what that entailed since I was upstairs. Silly me, wanting to get dressed. (I still haven't accomplished that task.)

I had to lock myself in the bathroom to clean up that very wet mess, which meant starting another load of laundry... towels, rugs, you know. I did not need little hands or helpers, in that precise moment.

Just after that, we all traipsed upstairs to get them dressed at least.

Tyler wasn't in the mood. So he kicked and punched until I had to retaliate, which broke his heart... all the while, Tucker cheered from inside the closet, where he had taken a basket on his imaginary trip to Disney World. (Always to see Uncle Rob first, then Mickey Mouse second.) He really wanted Tyler to go with him on his trip, but alas, Tyler was restrained on the changing table. Getting dressed. Believe me, he does not need any distractions from elsewhere. It is a fulltime job to get the task done.

When it was time to get Tucker dressed, the two of them hassled each other over something near the closet door, until the door came off its sliding track. Well, terrific. Tucker's response, "It's okay. Daddy feex it." Yep. He will. And mommy is always thankful she married a handy man.

In the meantime, I had to confiscate Pat the Hammer and the brand new golf clubs, for reasons I cannot exactly remember. But here they sit, in front of me, clearly out of reach of small hands. I'm sure it was wise; even now, I don't disagree with myself.

It's 9:34. They are watching Sesame Street. I had to catch my breath.

Sometime soon, I may get dressed.