Helper

Casey was out entertaining clients tonight. I don't have to do it often, but being a single parent is hard and it had been a long day at work, so I was anticipating a rough night. I always try to break it to Riley early when something is going to be different about his schedule -- he likes routine and it was a gorgeous night, so I knew he'd be crushed not to have his favorite pitcher to place baseball with -- so on the way home I told him that Daddy was going to be at a meeting all night and asked him if he could please be a good helper. His response? "Yes ma'am." Hmmm. When we got home, instead of whining about what we were going to have for dinner (as is the norm), he grabbed the two grocery bags at the foot of Chase's seat and climbed out of the car (I hadn't even asked). As he struggled to carry the two bags into the house he said, "You have full hands so I'm being a good helper." (Love him.) Inside the house, he attempted to get the two grocery bags on the counter for what felt like 10 minutes, knocking himself in the face with them twice, but insisted he did not need help. As I was getting Chase out of his carseat, Riley fed the dogs (again without me even asking). Trying to capitalize on the few shorts minutes I had until Chase completely melted down (he is not a patient waiter when food is near), I put Chase on the floor to play and began making dinner (don't judge me for serving them scrambled eggs, cheese and toast, as I said, being a single parent is tough). Hearing a very loud thud, I looked up to find that the thud was Riley dropping a bunch of toys on the floor. About to get annoyed, I looked at Riley and he flashed me one of his big smiles and said, "Monny, look, I brought Chase some toys to play with so you could make dinner." For the next five minutes, I cooked in (relative) peace as the two boys played together.

After dinner, the three of us played for awhile until it was time for Chase to go to sleep. Afterwards, Riley, not one to forget an opportunity for chocolate, reminded me that we needed to make brownies for his teachers for Teacher Appreciation Day the next day. Proving that he really is without a doubt my son, he asked just about every two seconds if we were done stirring yet, knowing that that is the last step before pouring the batter into the baking dish, signifying it's time to lick the spoon (and the bowl).

As I was tucking him into bed later that night, Riley told me, "I was a good helper tonight. Daddy was at a meeting." Between the look on his face and what he had said, I could tell he was proud of himself for being a good helper. And I was proud of him too.