Fairy Tale Hope.
A phrase I just made up so let me define it for you. I told my boys to put the last of the dinner plates and cups in the dishwasher while I finished getting ready. We all needed to leave. I’m upstairs for just a few minutes when I hear laughing and screaming and running and chasing. I’m sure the scene downstairs is not of angelic boys completing a chore, but of a frenzied scramble to find a Nerf gun, a pillow from the couch, a sword, a shield or something to dominate each other. I hear the thump of a take down, the cry of victory, the call of revenge…. And yet, there is a part of me that really truly thinks they did obey. Maybe they are just having a lot of fun lining the dishes in neat rows. I am sure pillows aren’t strewn about and no one is tangled in a wrestling move. The dishes are not teetering awkwardly on each other facing the wrong direction from being hastily thrown in.
No, that is not happening.
Okay, so it probably is happening. The downstairs has erupted into a den of untamed lions and the dishwasher probably won’t close because of the ridiculousness.
...the hope is still there. A little part of me still thinks - really thinks - they just might be doing what they are supposed to be doing. And if they are not and I stall for a few more minutes before going downstairs maybe - just maybe - they will pull it together and get the chore done correctly.
Fairy Tale Hope. Have you been there too? #momproblems