Even "glass half full" people go through rocky patches. It's how we handle those rocky patches that I'm thinking about this morning. Some days it's oh-so-human to just let ourselves have a good cry. Or twelve. But what about the days when you want to really pull it together and focus on all the good in your life and the fact that you know it's getting better every day? That it must be?
This morning, thinking thoughts along these lines, I shuffled to the kitchen to start a pot of coffee. A pot of coffee I wasn't yet ready for since I really wanted to still be sleeping. (See yesterday's "He's just not ready to face his day.") Looking around I noticed nothing spectacular and nothing horrid. Just a bunch of stuff I have to deal with. And, oh, by the way, that coffee will be required if I'm gonna' handle a single thing on this growing list.
Then I saw it. The banana sock.
I smiled. A little. Then a little more.
Let me explain.
After work yesterday, sis brought Mr. Pie over for a couple of hours. Among the riveting activies of our evening was to periodically slice more discs off the banana he'd asked for (really and truly; it's one of his maybe 8 distinguishable words...sometimes he even puts the 'ba' on the 'nana' for good measure,) and stuff 'em in his mouth while he explored the boxes still stacked everywhere from my still-incomplete move. This kid eventually gets bored eating if that's his only activity; I can relate, so I'm happy to help accommodate his quirky appetite. So we followed him around and eventually he ate a whole banana. Mostly.
Sis brought him here in clean clothes. Down to his socks. But suddenly I looked down, watching this child scurry from the room, on his knees. Socks were turned bottom up. And one of 'em was decidedly NOT clean. Seems he'd dropped a bit of banana, stepped in it, and used that lovely moisture to pick up any unclean things left on my kitchen floor. From the looks of it, I need to add "mop kitchen floor" to the list.
Fortunately I had a single extra sock of his lying around (don't ask,) and offered it as a trade. The banana sock was laid on the side of the washing machine for inclusion in my next load of whites. And there it sits right now. Waiting for me to notice it. And grasp that sight as a tiny thing to make me smile.
It's hard to be completely poopy and down when you have a random, gross sock, perfectly fit for a 13 month old, lying in your kitchen.
Yes, stuff like that really does work for me sometimes...and I'm looking for other tidbits to spark smiles, too. Care to share?