Anyone who knows me well understands that I like control. Miles, my four-year-old, is not a child who is willing to submit very easily to my manipulative parenting tactics. So, whenever I can’t hear him in the house, I know he is up to something I typically would not embrace. This morning, I was blow drying my hair, putting on make-up, etc. and had not seen Miles for a while. So, I went downstairs to find him. I walked into the kitchen and saw various condiments and food as well as a pile of bread crusts strewn about on the floor and countertops. I called out “Miles” and heard a faint voice through the pantry wall. I opened the door, and he informed me that he thought I was a monster and had gone in there to hide.

“What are you doing Miles?”

“I made my lunch Mom.”

“Oh, you did.”

“Yes, there’s a big sandwich, watermelon, turkey. It’s yummy Mom.”

So in an effort not to thwart self-reliance, or creativity, I simply told him well done and immediately began cleaning up the disaster. The whole time repeating in my head, “This is good for me. This is good for me. Let go. Let go.”