Frustrated with the tiny fingers that kept wrapping around the rubber seal on the door of the dryer, I shut the door with a bang.

Little Legs jumped back in surprise.

I wasn’t mad, although it must have seemed that way, I was exasperated at never accomplishing anything aside from diaper changes and chasing crumbs.     

“You can’t help with laundry until you agree to stop trying to break the seal on the dryer.”

I took a deep breath. Lately, I found myself needing more and more of these.

“Can you agree to that?”

Little Legs didn’t need long to think, he absolutely could not agree to those terms.

He was set on breaking the rubber seal. It was too temptingly stretchy to leave it in place.

It was like leaving a block of cheese in front of a mouse and saying, “No nibbles while I turn my back.”

Nothing was going to stop him. Unless it was me, his terribly mean mother, picking him up and removing him from the laundry room, which I did while he kicked and screamed angry insults in Toddlerese.

Fat tears rolled down both cheeks as he continued his incoherent rant against the unfairness of life. The commotion brought Daddy Longlegs out of his office. He poked his head out of the door with concern.

“What’s going on out here?”  

Little Legs cried as ran down the hallway and grabbed his legs.

At last, his savior arrived.

He pulled at Daddy Longlegs’ hand and led him back to the laundry room and pointed to the dryer.

Instead of allowing Little Legs to continue with his destruction of the machine, he offered a distraction.

“Would you like a snack?”

Of course, he nodded and wiped his runny nose with the back of his hand.

While his meal stomach quickly filled after a few bites, his snack stomach was always open for business.  

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