The other day, when I insisted he have some quiet time in his room (not because I thought he would take a nap, but because I needed some peace), I gave him a set of blocks to play with. When nap time was over, and I asked him to clean up the blocks, he said, indignantly, "MOM! You shouldn't've giveded me so many blocks to make such a big mess!"
I totally see his point.
Today, Owen made the hugest, grossest, messiest poop in his pants ever. And I just looked at him, poo running down his legs, underpants bulging with fetid waste, brown mess pooling lumpily on the ground, and thought, "I can't do this."
Maybe that's what it feels like to be four and have somebody ask you to clean up all those dozens of blocks.
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