It could have been a very bad day.
The toilet backed up.
The dog got sick.
A carton of orange juice spilled all over the counter.
And this was all before 8:00 am.
It could have been a very, very bad day. I needed help and the only person around to help me was my four-year-old.
"I'll help you, Mommy," he agreed. He played (gently) with Princess. He helped carry the rags I used to wipe up the OJ to the laundry room. And he managed to keep the dog out of all the messes. Then we flew out of the house to run our errands. My Middle Guy pushed Princess (gently again, after I reminded him) through the store in her stroller. He helped load bags into the trunk. And he did it all without complaining. He was such a good boy, he got to out to McDonalds for lunch.
At McDonalds he held Princess' hand as I balanced the trays in my arms. He even fed her french fries. Then he was off to play in the tubes. She has refused to even try to say his name. She has been calling him "boy." But when he popped his head out of one of the tubes, Princess looked up, waved, and yelled, "Love you."
Sometimes the best times come out of the worst days.