I spent my entire day in the kitchen, and that's just barely an exageration.  While that may hint at an extremely industrious day, I hate to say it wasn't.  I move so slow right now, it just takes me that long to make breakfast; clean-up and wash dishes; lunch; clean-up and wash dishes; clean up Playdough; put Joshua down for a nap; rest for an hour. 

When Joshua woke up, he seemed unable to cope with the stresses of his young life, so with a lot of going back and forth, I assured him that life would go on, even if his cookies weren't arranged properly in the bowl and that he could NOT watch the TV and his DVD player at the same time; that if he wanted his soother so badly, he should stop throwing it on the floor; and no, Joshua, you are not allowed to hit people when life gets rough.

Joshua's world eventually turned right side up, and I made salad dressing and chopped vegetables;  put dry dishes away; spilled potato salad all over the floor- and cleaned it up, too, of course;  made dinner; washed dishes; prepared leftover spaghetti squash for a pie (yes, a dessert pie- it should be an interesting experience, to say the least); and eat.  John was a sweetheart and washed the last load of dishes for me; and now he's putting Joshua to bed.  In case you're curious, we had BBQ chicken, roasted potatoes and onions, and salad.  The pie is cooling on the counter, and I'll serve it in an hour or so, with whipped cream and hot tea- I mean, the whipped cream on the pie and the tea with the pie.  Pie is not a part of my restricted diet, but I've found that digestive enzymes work almost as well as a diet, so in life and death situations such as three cups of spaghetti squash is about to go to waste, I can cheat.  Just a little. 

Anyway, that is how I managed to spend an entire day in the kitchen- yes, I move that s-l-o-o-o-w.  I'm hoping that this will one day become a memory that I shake my head at and wonder how it was possible.

Towards the end of the evening, Joshua came along, tired of his trains and cars, and wanted to help me, so I decided to let him set the table and handed him a glass.  I didn't tell him what to do, but let him decide for himself.  He took the glass between his two hands, very gingerly, and walked to the table.  "Daddy sit right here?" he asked, looking at me for approval.  He came back for the next glass and walked to another chair.  "Mommy sit here?"  That glass went dangerously close to the side of the table, but I let it bed.  I handed him forks, knives and napkins, and the salt and pepper shakers.  When I wasn't looking, he opened a drawer and added a second plastic knife to his own personal collection.  I guess he doesn't approve of the way I've been setting his spot in the past. ;-)

I still can't believe how much he's grown up- he helps out so much around the house now.  If he spills something, he wipes it up.  If he gets crumbs on the carpet, he asks for the little dustbuster and takes care of it.  He wipes the table for me.  Takes things to the trash.  Puts his dishes in the sink.  Dirty clothes in the laundry basket.  Cleans up his toys. 

And knows how to run a DVD player and the phone, haha!

If only he would learn to use the potty ALL the time....