Colton spilled his oatmeal on the floor while trying to look at the steam. He did not spill whole bowls of oatmeal when he was two. I am not sure why this happened, but it did...twice.
The first time he calls out and is sad that he has spilled his oatmeal. My response in the old days would have been one of frustration and complete misunderstanding. It probably would have resulted in hurt feelings and me apologizing. After all, it was an accident. I just told him that it would be okay and after I cleaned it up I would make him more. In my mind, however, I was reeling. I was not excited about the prospect of cleaning up spilled oatmeal from a bowl that was completely face down. I remembered that it was not runny and not clumpy either. I calmly went to pick it up paper towels in hand. When I turned over the bowl, to my utter amazement, there was only one small dollop of oatmeal on the rug. Immediately, I honestly felt extreme gratitude for this small blessing. I really feel like I was rewarded for the way I handled the situation. No crying, no yelling, no drama and no grumbling.
Less than a minute later, I heard the same thump. He had spilled the oatmeal again. I became more frustrated this time, but I quickly remembered how peaceful the previous encounter had been. I gathered my composure, and I still did not yell, say hurtful things, or grumble (not out loud anyways). I did not think my clean up would be as pleasant as the first; nevertheless, there was only two dollops to clean this time. By Golly G, I think I got it. I hope. Because I am tired of learning lessons the hard way.
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