All my troubles seemed so —verynear.
So, if you’re spring chicken to 4Life4Life blog (speaking of which, I’m changing that lameo nameo this year and I know you agree so I won’t bother telling you not to get attached);
First: hai hai haiiiii! Welcome, bienvenue, bienvenidos, and I frequently have one reader from Poland, and I would say “witam” but I just read that culturally, “witam” can be rude and condescending amongst strangers so I don’t know what to say other than hey there, in the land of my favorite Polish Pope! …and please don’t be a creepy weirdo troll.
SeconT: It would be useful to know I grew up admiring a family of 9 children who were members of our parish for many years until they moved far, far away. They are great friends of my parents and now with 3 children of my own, I consider myself somewhat of a long distance apprentice of Mrs. Langenkamp, as she still manages to paint her fingernails and I, with three times less the children, have not yet showered this week. Well, not really an apprentice, but mostly. I’m kind of the Mickey Mouse-Fantasia apprentice, but in my own head. –okay. I’ve written a little about them here.
Yesterday, however, my life as I previously knew it was changed by a Peanut Butter and Jelly Sandwich.
“For me, my life changed the day I realized Nicholas [the eldest] could make himself a sandwich. Because you know, if one can make himself a sandwich, he can also make a sandwich for everyone else.”
When Mrs. Langenkamp told me this story, I salivated for the day. My memory is awful, but I feel like at the time she told me her sandwich revelation, Lexington was a 2 year old wild orangutan, Emmett, a 6 month Jabba the Hutt, and Collin, yet to be conceived.
So when I turned around yesterday and Lexington, now 4 years old, had the countertop organized with the finesse of a culinary artist, dressed with all the ingredients to make a PB&J, dictating, “first mom, you need to open the jelly. Then, you need to caaaarefully scoop some out onto this slice of bwead– but be careful not to make a big mess! Next …”
I figured I’d let him try to make it himself. And make it, he did.
Mrs. Langenkamp’s words rang throughout my head along with a song chiming about bright, bright, bright -BRIGHT- sun-shiny day-s.
….and then I cleaned up the excessive jelly smothering the island.
I see bright days, mom-icured nails, and sandwich-making sweatshops in the very near future.
Lexington was enthusiastic about making his bros a sandwich but, we are now out of bread. Que sera, sera.