My New Favorite Photo...

Why? Well, for one, it doesn't show my double-chin. (Thanks be to A: Weight Watchers, B: A fair camera angle, or possibly C: The Stomach Bug that took with it all of my self-respect, and 6 whole pounds). Really though, I like it because it shows my boy's sweet personality... and the true-to-life way I have to practically grab him in mid run, then hold-on tight to get a picture. More than any of that, I like it because we're both smiling.... both smiling after "The Syrup Incident of 2010."

It happened so quickly. Moms, you know what I mean. Yes, I was on the phone with a friend, but no, I really wasn't long and I really wasn't that distracted. The kids had hit their mid-morning crash and had been swarming me for about 15 minutes. I'd gone into auto-pilot, shoving snacks in their mouths and juice cups in their hands while diverting what seemed to be one crisis after another. I walked out of the kitchen to meet Trevor, with a large Sonic cup in-hand. "You're drink Mommy?" Well, yes, that's my drink, but no...don't drink it because it's been sitting on that table since yesterday. I grabbed it, and took it into the kitchen, out-of-reach. Tatum is in the living room, grabbing DVD's out of the TV armoire and emptying the cases. "No, no Tatum, no touch." Tatum complies and toddles off on her merry way into the kitchen. I follow her.

That's when I see it... brown, liquid, on the floor. My initial thought was that he'd somehow reached that pesky Sonic cup and poked a hole through it with the straw, streaming yesterday's tea all over the floor. (Say it with me: "Why not just put the cup IN THE TRASH, woman!").

That's when I rounded the corner to see my beloved first-born standing in the corner, syrup bottle in-hand. The bottle was upside down, cap open. He'd gleefully squeezed the bottle with both chubby little hands as he swung his arms back, and forth, and back, and forth. His splatter-creation already covered the entire kitchen floor. I kid you not... the entire kitchen floor. I picked my jaw up off the ground and then remembered Tatum... who had already met the mess on her hands and knees. I scoop up both kids, and put them in the gated playroom while I clean it up. Poor sweet Tatum, the innocent bystander. She was due for a nap, covered in sticky syrup and feeling absolutely abandoned, having just been caged alongside her nearly-maniacal big brother. Can't say that I blame her, given he'd clocked her over the head with the baby-stroller within seconds of being there.

To say he was due for a time-out is an gross understatement. He did get a doozy of a time-out. In fact, he sat there the entire time it took for me to clean it up. But really, I was the one that needed the time out. I needed to somehow move forward and not let the hectic morning paint the picture of the rest of the day. I needed to regain a rational perspective... to remember he was a two-year-old and that he'd not done it out of sheer obstinance, but for the most part-out of curiosity. And so, we talked, I apologized for the yelling I'd done and took the opportunity to use the teachable moment to actually teach. He listened, he was remorseful, he responded lovingly. And in the end, after the dust settled, we took some time to play with the camera and this is the face it captured. Happy. Loving. A spirit un-broken. And for this mom, that face spells total success.