The fact that this picture is fuzzy is ironic. This was taken during a fuzzy time in our household. The day this picture was taken, I came home from the grocery store; a sitter was here to watch everyone so that I could buy the groceries. I was bleary-eyed from lack of sleep from nursing a newborn, and this little guy was two years old. He saw the bread in the grocery bag, and he wanted it. I started to cut him a piece from the loaf, and he said, “No, No, No.” He wanted the whole thing.
Arguing with him was, and still is, pointless. He will wear you down. So, here he sits, happily with his bread.
I stumbled upon this picture while working on the home movies. As I look at this photo now, it becomes apparent to me that these “fuzzy daze” are gradually fading away from my life. Their legs are getting longer; it’s taking me less time to clean the house (not a WHOLE lot less, almost imperceptible); they don’t complain when I give them “big kid” plates instead of Toy Story plates, and I have fewer arguments over bread.
The photo, fuzzy and all, is framed in my kitchen now as a reminder of those fuzzy days when I was bleary-eyed, and needed a sitter just to go to the grocery store. It’s also a reminder of how just how “little” those “big” problems will look in just a few short years.