He Only Wants To Help
Supper needs to be on the table in an hour. The floor has been swept three times already. My little guy needs to help. (So he thinks.) The last thing I want to do at the end of the day is clean up yet another mess. I could have the cinnamon bread in the oven in five minutes. Surely he will understand me saying no. Some other time maybe? But no. He looks at me with those eyes of his and I cave. He only wants to help.
I Can Be Your Chef Helper!
He so happily exclaims as he pulls up a chair. I sigh to myself and hand him the cinnamon. Try as he might to keep it contained, the cinnamon is caked on his hands. However, he is beaming. He helped me. In his mind he was a chef helping to put on a great meal.
He Needs My Gift Of Time
I gave him my time. The bread wasn’t in the oven when I thought it had to be. The counter took quite an effort to clean. The gift of time, patience, and learning a skill was enough to make his evening bright. Messes will clean. The pleased look in his eyes was priceless. I need to remember memories are worth the mess.