It seems to be taking longer and longer to go anywhere or get anything done these days.  This isn’t because I have become more disorganized (perish the thought!).  Rather, it is all Dom’s fault.  He is become more independent by the day, and he insists on helping with each task. 

“I try!” is his mantra, and it is one I can’t say no to.  I mean, if I tell him that he can’t brush his hair…even though I know he will end up with a giant, messy Mohawk…he will spend his life unkempt.  If I tell him that he can’t spray the counters with cleaning spray…even though I know that he will also spray the cabinets, the floor, and the curtains…he will be a slob forever.

So I have to let him try.  Everything.  For himself.

And usually, it isn’t that big a deal.  So what if he takes 20 minutes to sweep a 2” section of the kitchen floor?  He is learning to contribute.  When we are ten minutes late leaving for a doctor’s appointment and he insists on putting on his own shoes, my patience dims. 

Even then, though, I can take a deep breath and remind myself that, one day, I’ll long for the days he still needed my help.  And on that day, I will regret my impatience.