A tattered envelope fell out of my son’s baby book while I was tidying up. As I turned it over, memories of a hectic day with a toddler and preschoolers came rushing back. It was a discarded envelope from an insurance statement and was postmarked July 15, 2005. Less than three months after we had brought our youngest child home and sent our then three-and-a-half-year-old son’s life topsy-turvy. Not only had his daddy and mommy been gone for two weeks, but they had brought home a 16-month-old brother who wanted to play with all of his toys.
On the back of the envelope I had chronicled my frustrated son’s activities:
Between 9:00-12:00 Devon managed to:
- Throw a jigsaw puzzle and each individual piece down the stairs.
- Color the chest cooler with purple crayon.
- Empty all three church activity bags onto our bed and the floor.
- Empty two full bags of cereal onto our bed and floor.
- Color Kilyan’s new truck with chocolate lip gloss.
- Color our white quilt with the above.
- Overflow the bathroom sink.
- Clog the toilet with toilet paper.
- Have both siblings in tears.
- Empty four more jigsaw puzzles on the floor.
Meanwhile, Amanda, our social worker, calls as Kilyan is shredding toilet paper and throwing it into the bathtub along with with Ashlyn’s ballet toe shoes. The tub has a little water in it because Ash hurt her foot and was soaking it. Kilyan then empties the bookshelf.
My mother-in-law assures me that one day I will miss these years. Almost four years later, though I can’t say yet that I miss the toddler and preschool age, I can laugh at that day. Smiling, I tuck the tattered envelope back into my son’s baby book. I send up a word of thanks that my boys have both adjusted well to being brothers.