It was another harried morning, and we were running late as has been our trend the past few days of preschool. Reese and Tate were successfully dressed and ready to go so I turned my attention to Drue. I pried her few uneaten cheerios from her grasp and plopped her on the potty.
As I tried to convince her that now was not the time to sit and ponder life's mysteries, Tate began howling on the other side of the door, desperately wanting to come in and either topple headfirst into the tub, or gleefully climb the stepstool and brush his four front teeth.
I attempted to block him out as I sat on the edge of the tub and patiently waited for Drue to count out her last few pieces of toilet paper.
With the clock ticking, Tate crying, and one of the dogs barking to go outside, I sighed and commented, "Our life is pretty crazy isn't it Drue?".
"Uh-huh...it is," she replied, then added, "But my life is a beeeaaauuuutiful life!".
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