The Battles I Don’t Fight

I used to worry about hair brushing and nice haircuts.  I used to worry about clothes matching.  I used to worry about special outfits on picture day.  I used to worry about well balanced breakfasts.

Then I had a moment – the oldest Edward Scissorhanded his own hair the night before school pictures.  We’re not talking ‘just a little off the top’; this was a full blown missing chunk of hair that used to be in the forehead region.  I almost cried.  But I didn’t.  I laughed because that stubborn, sassy, drives me crazy child had tears.  I thought of all the awkward family photos that have made their way around Facebook.  Those are the photos that make us laugh, connect, and remember.  When that stubborn, sassy, drives me crazy child (who might just act exactly like his momma) has his own stubborn, sassy, drives him crazy child, he’ll get to show him the first grade school picture that sports a missing chunk of hair.  He’ll laugh and wonder what he was thinking or that he just wanted to see if the scissors really worked.  Hopefully, he will say how I didn’t make a big deal about it and maybe even ate some ice cream with him and smothered him with hugs.

The little one got himself up and dressed in his pre-school uniform (small miracle considering his lack of preference for mornings) and went to the bathroom.  As all little boys do, he might have sprinkled a TEENY, TINY, MICROSCOPIC drop of pee on his shorts. Unacceptable.  So he changed.  Into pictured outfit.  Those are football pants.  And his hair is not brushed.  And he is holding a bag of Trix for breakfast.  Seriously with the popped collar?

This little one doesn’t know how lucky he is.  His brother paved the way and taught me which battles I should fight.