It always goes poorly when I fail to make a clean break. When I try to eek out just a little more productivity: finish a paragraph, or a bit of code, while my kids close in, wanting things. “Mommy look! Can I have some crackers Mommy? I’m hungry. When are we having snack?” And it’s as though my boys feel that I’m trying to do something else; as though they have a radar on for when I’m only partway present.
And it’s then the milk spills. TWICE in one sitting. It’s then that they fight over every single thing. Then that the bigger one crashes into the littler one, and the little one comes to me wailing, his mouth full of blood.
It’s then that tears are inevitable—from me, if not from them. [More...]