Age brings new perspective.
I remember going to visit my Uncle Roy and Aunt Joan that lived a long way away. They raised 7 children and were so thrilled to see my then little family of 3 children.
They were so kind to us and to our children.
I remember eating lunch with them one day. My 18 month old, who until that meal had been buckled tidily into a booster seat at the table, climbed up onto the table crawling across it. He then sat right next to my Uncle's plate. My Uncle sweetly replied. "Look he wants to eat and drink with me." I, as a young mother, was mortified. He said it was alright and in his delight began sharing his plate of food with my little one. I sat amazed as I watched this phenomenon.
I am seeing a difference in my perspective. Upon discovering my youngest little boy's art I felt something new. I felt delight. I carefully studied it. Seeing that the little person in the crayon hieroglyph was smiling made me feel joy. My son must be happy.
I feel a little bit old. I look back at the young mother who was so worried about the responsibility ahead. The responsibility has not changed. In fact it has only compounded in size. But, something is different. It's me.
I have relaxed. I have gained better judgment about what is important.
Paint can be cleaned. Little boys grow up, and this time passes way too quickly.