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They say if you wait long enough, your children eventually do grow up and mature and quit writing on walls and playing in the toilet. I know this, but sometimes I feel like I have been in this season forever, where I have to constantly be on high alert for clandestine activities going on in the next room. I realize that is because I have had a toddler for 9 years, just not constantly the same one. Still, that can give one the illusion that one is not making any progress.
Well. Yesterday I awoke feeling dreadful, head all stuffed up and bones hurting. That had no effect on the littles who are always up between 6 and 7. So I called my big boy to my room, croaked pathetically, and asked if he could please make me a cup of tea and feed the other children leftover pancakes. I saw a mantle of responsibility fall onto him as he importantly went out and told the rest of the kids that they have to be quiet because Mama is sick. I grinned and sank happily down into my bed. Just an extra half hour of quietness with a cup of tea, and the realization that we are, indeed, making progress.