On being an adult

This has been a very grown-up month at our house.  I'm hoping it will be finished soon.

We've protested property taxes, registered two cars (only six trips to mechanic-type places and six checks), tried to refinance the house (enough with the shady shenanigans!), filed income tax stuff for the third time (maybe the IRS and I can both get it right at the same time this time), restarted vision therapy, started the process for speech therapy, started potty training, bottled peaches and pears, and organized a playgroup.

Now we just need to finish the dental work we've been too busy to do, finish the potty training, replace the furnace and air-conditioner (before it gets cold), and figure out how to deal with the allergies that won't go away.

Sometimes I get tired of being an adult, or maybe I just get tired by being an adult.

(It is interesting in the middle of a month like this to watch Miss M stuck in between, trying to figure out if she's grown up or not and if she wants to be or not.)

Independence

Rule I inherited from my mother:  Children can climb trees as high as they can without help.  If you need help to get up, you will most likely have trouble getting down.

Young T:  Mom, may you help me climb the tree?  (said with a two year-old accent.)

Me:  No, I don't help little boys climb high.

Young T:  Mom, may you help me climb low?

Me:  No, if you can't climb by yourself you have to wait until you are bigger.

(repeat a time or two.)

Young T disappears into the house for a minute.

Young T: Mom, may I bring the step-stool outside?

At least he asked.