Literally and figuratively, right now in my life, I am taking out the trash. Rewind to mid afternoon, Saturday. The man and I, are splitting and it’s not pretty. I need him to go and he is fighting a losing battle to stay. One thing I have learned about myself in this journey of my life that I have been taking is that when I am done with something, I am done. Whether it’s my love of cheese flavored pretzels that has turned to disgust
or a relationship that is over, I am done. So back to last week, while he was ranting and raving about something (I really don’t know what because I have stopped listening) I was cleaning my house. My middle child was home and asked me if I needed any help. So I asked him to take out the trash. He is six. I did not expect him to do it. But, as my children often do, he surprised the hell out of me. He took the top off the trash bin, removed, and tied up the bag, went to the side door, and put the trash bag into the garbage pail in the back. He then went to my backroom where I keep all my
hoard extra supplies, took out 5 garbage bags, put 4 in the bottom of the bin, and put the 5th bag around the bin and put the cover on. He calmly went to wash his hands, gave me a kiss on the cheek, and then took his sister outside to play, away from the one siding yelling. My tough, yet sensitive little man. There is much chaos about to erupt in our lives over the next couple of weeks, and I am a little more calm knowing that he is wise beyond his years.
Fast forward to this morning, and he tells me that he is big enough to always take out the trash and he wants it to be his job from now own. No problems with that from this mom, and I decided that I too am old enough to know when it is time to take out the trash. Thanks for the lesson, my dear son.