Portrait of Valentine's Day

Disclaimer: this post contains graphic content. But, there's no need for gasping, clutching of chests, or any other such shenanigans. It's about Valentine's Day for parents of a three-year-old, for crying out loud.  Nobody is having any kind of sex, whatsoever. I hope that makes you happy.

Meany.

7:00 am: Awaken to a small mouth-breather, standing 3" from your sleeping face, demanding help to go pee (he can do it himself, he just chooses not to first thing in the morning, when it would mean the most to his exhausted parents).

7:03 am: Crawl hopefully into bed and try to go back to sleep.

7:05 am: The kid climbs into your bed, takes over your pillow, and starts an annoying dinosaur growling war in your ear. Daddy gives up and lets him take the iPad, as long as he promises to use it in his room. With the door closed.

8:35 am: Reawaken with a start, guiltily realizing that you've let your child start his day watching almost two hours of unsupervised dinosaur fight scenes on YouTube. Do not get out of bed. The damage is already done, may as well savor the relative peace for a few more minutes.

9:15 am: Daddy gets up and starts coffee. You start the chai latte you've become addicted to since you successfully convinced yourself tea was just as good as coffee to kick start a day. Turns out, it is. Make breakfast.

10:30 - 11:15 am: Field 3 temper tantrums caused by various parental infringements upon the will of a threenager.

11:20 am: Spank and time-out.

11:30 am: Bath.

12:30 pm: Mama takes (an accidental, but much appreciated) nap.

1:30 pm: Daddy puts the kid down for a nap. This one's on purpose.

[1:30 to 4:00]: Blessed peace ensues.

4:30 pm: Family Jenga. The kid wins. He cheats, but tattling is frowned upon in your house, so...

After Jenga but before dinner is a blur, really. Somebody threw several fits over pooping in the potty, resulting in soiled shorts and wiped bottoms. *shrug* Could've been any one of you.

7:00 pm: Mama and Daddy finally sit down to a lovely, home-cooked Valentine's Day meal with the soundtrack to yet another fight scene echoing romantically in the air. The kid touches none of it. He eats cereal. Mama and The Belly got a single, precious sip of Daddy's wine. (Sue me, it was delicious).

7:45 pm: Mama calls a moratorium on tantrums for the day, declaring it (early) bed time. Books, prayers, songs, and kisses see the kid down for the night.

The day ends with Mama and Daddy, huddled together for warmth and strength, watching a movie and feeling the baby kick. Each declares today the best day, ever.

And it was.