This is a bonus post, written to prove to you (and to me) that I will not be consumed by seizures. Epilepsy is part of my life, but it will not be my life, by the grace of God.
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When my firstborn was 18 months old, she would help me in simple ways: throwing trash away, picking up toys, filling the washer with dirty clothes, and emptying the dryer into the laundry basket.
I was sure it was A Sign.
Her willingness to help was A Sign that I was a good and faithful and consistent mother. She would grow up to be cheerfully helpful because of the encouragement I was giving her. None of this complaining and whining about work, no, indeedy.
My third child is now nearly 18 months old, and he also likes to throw trash away and load the washer.
But I know the truth this time. He hasn’t yet figured out that he is working.
Once he has, it doesn’t matter how good and faithful and consistent I am: There will be whining.
Love that picture! It’s fascinating to see in his cute little face traces of the boy and girl I went to school with… 🙂
AMEN!! From a mother of seven. Our hearts beat the same. Keep on being encouraging and consistent, they do grow up to become helpful. Our oldest is 12 and is a great helper, but still likes to play.
Adorable little helper!
Oh the photo is so cute! I had no idea he was so big already! I guess that means it has been too long since we’ve been together in person.
And the whining – it is a reality here too. And crops up just when they get old enough to be truly helpful. Sigh.
Gina