The Blessing of Childhood

Keeping house has been a struggle as of late. A busy schedule and a two-year-old, who likes to dump things out (including a brand new bottle of baby soap), have made my house a perfect candidate for a dramatic before and after shot. Luckily, my tw0-year-old is beyond cute, and baptized me in a wonderfully slobbery kiss tonight. As I squatted there in the kitchen, letting the softness of his kiss linger on my lips, I couldn't help but notice the toys of childhood left on the dining room floor: a dump truck, a ball, a top. And for a second I envisioned them gone, and a beautifully tidy dining room without all of the crumbs. And though I know that I will never miss the crumbs, I do know that one day I will miss the toys, for they will not always be there. Over the years they will probably morph into ipods (or whatever we will then be using to listen to music), skateboards and car keys And then one day they will be gone. So on those days when I am stressed because my house seems to be crashing down on me, I'm going to try to stop and thank God for the incredible blessing of childhood under my roof, and hope that it lingers longer than the soft kiss now gone.