Some days you have everything under control: you wake up early, clean the kitchen, get dinner in the crockpot, and run two loads of laundry. But then your three year old says, "I boo ih my uh-weah," which means, "I pooped in my underwear,' and you know this is not a good sign. Your four-year-old then boycotts getting dressed and having her hair brushed. She by-passes the consequence you've given her, "no breakfast until you obey," by serving herself fruit snacks when you're not looking. Your toddler suddenly reveals a supernatural ability to move at the speed of light by turning off the lights while you are in the laundry room, pulling his sisters' bunk-bed ladder over on himself, and playing his father's guitar, all in the span of 15 seconds. When you drive twenty minutes to the hospital to pick up a copy of the medical reports from your toddler's recent battery of tests, every printer in the hospital will be simultaneously unable to print until further notice. Some days you have everything under control, until you realize that you have very little under control.
But, on your way home from the futile trip to the hospital, you will happen to drive by your oldest daughter's elementary school just in time to see four-hundred elementary students release red helium balloons into the unending sky. Your four-year-old will comment, glowing with awe, "Wow! That was amazing!" You suddenly remember that you had intended to put this event on your calendar, and you had intended to bring your daughters along to see it, but had completely forgotten to do so. You then realize that everything from the poopy underwear to the off-line printers contributed to the perfect timing of this moment. Some days you will be reminded that you are glad someone else is in control.
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