The Guessing Game

For the most part I think that I'm very patient. I think I have accepted things to just be part of my life and don't sweat the small stuff.

But some days I just wonder how long I can do it for.

Like searching all over for one particular train, not even sure which one I'm looking for because Brian can't tell me, but if we don't find it he's not going to get into the bath tub.

Then emptying the bath tub and having to wait and wait and wait, because he won't get out of the tub until the last drop of water is down the drain.

Then when reading a book to him I have to start over three times because he has another book he's holding and he wants us each to turn the page at the same time.

Then waking up in the morning to him running the trains on the railing of the stairs to watch them crash on the floor. It's so loud and alarming to wake up to.

Then making his scrambled eggs in a perfect circle shape because for some reason, unknown to the rest of us, he won't eat them any other way.

Then trying to calm him down when he's insisting he can't wear a zip-up sweatshirt AND a jacket. I guess it's the two zipper thing.

Then having the entire ensemble of snow pants, boots, winter jacket, hat, mittens on when he starts crying and pulling at his pants. Something's obviously not lined up right, but he can't tell me. And he's not going out that door to school until I figure it out.

All of these things need to be in a certain way, and none of them he can actually verbalize to me, it's so much of a guessing game.

I just wonder if the rest of my existence is going to follow this guessing game.