Perfectly Imperfect Suits Me Just Fine

This morning my big five-year-old came home and we meandered down to Starbucks for a little catch-up. I bought him a milk and let him order my usual, a chai tea latte (which sounds cute when he says it, because he doesn't really say his L's), and we sat down so he could show me how to play his new Game Boy game that Daddy got him for the trip. The kiddo wanted to sit on my lap the whole time, and I let him.

Later, when we arrived home, he discovered a plastic car that I'd (gasp!) removed from a cereal box in his absence, and he was inexplicably ticked off. Like, so annoyed that I wound up giving him a time-out for sassing me. More than once. After some tears (on his part) and hugs (mutual), we were finally ready to run a few errands. I swear, we were out for about three hours and he did not stop talking once. Really, he was in a fabulous mood the whole time, telling me about a movie he was making up and insisting that I watch it sometime. (It's pretend, people!) I was worn out from listening and mm-hmm-ing, but also quite amused by my little chatterbox. He definitely gets that from me.

Right now we're enjoying a quiet break, but he came upstairs a few minutes ago to pick up the plastic car that triggered his earlier upset. As he casually headed downstairs, car in hand, I said fondly, "You're a happy boy this afternoon, eh?"

His matter-of-fact reply: "Oh, yes. I'm not having that taking-the-car-out-of-the-box issue any more."

I'm glad he's back.