Charlie Mac asked me at breakfast this morning, “Mom, do dog’s fawt?” Fawt = fart, btw. When I replied, “Yes,” he was delighted.

He giggled and ran down the hallway to tell his sister. Knocking on the bathroom door he yells, “ELLE! ELLE! Guess what? Dogs fawt!”

Morning made.

School mornings can be hectic. Some of us get ready quickly and easily. Some of us do not. Cough. cough. Charlie Mac.

Every morning I go quietly into his room. His precious little body is sprawled out on his bed. His underwear are on backwards, sagging in the front with the opening slot across his booty. Lil Luke’s old blankie, tucked under his arm. Angel baby. I go over and rub his back. I whisper “good morning” and kiss his neck, smelling him, drinking him up. I watch him slowly open his eyes, coming into awareness. Some mornings he tells me that he’s waiting on me to stop rubbing his back before he gets out of bed and I think maybe we’ll just stay like this forever.

From here on out, we play a intricate game of dodge-the-tantrum. There are no rules to this game therefore I have no idea how to “win.” The other day, he wanted to wear his batman shorts AND his new gray shorts. We “compromised” and he wore both. Don’t ask.

One morning, he wanted to wear 3 pairs of socks. When I tried to explain that his shoes wouldn’t fit with this many socks on and to remind him that he doesn’t even like to wear ONE pair of socks, he yelled at me.

I think that he is getting closer to the age of reason, but he is not there yet.

Some mornings, it could be that he wanted a bagel instead of a waffle for breakfast or that I poured him too little juice, or put it in the wrong cup. It could be that Elle took the “good” stool.

The stools look identical to me.

A few mornings ago, Elle was on the receiving end of his tantrum. Charlie Mac sat on said “good stool,” crying over his fallen fork. I reminded him that all he needed to do was hop down and pick it up himself or ask someone nicely to pick it up for him. Well, he’s stubborn so continuing to cry was his preferred course of action and when Elle picked it up without being asked, he yelled at her.

“ELLE! I DIDN’T ASK YOU TO DO THAT,” he sobbed.

Being helpful won’t guarantee the end of a tantrum.

The nerve of this one, you guys.

The big kids, especially Luke, who is cool as a cucumber 90% of the time, asks, “What’s wrong with Charlie?” or “Why is he like that?” Well, he’s 4.

But some mornings. Rare magical mornings dogs fawt and life is good.

And when the magic feels more like mania, at least we know that he will be dropped off at school at 7:15 where he immediately forgets all wardrobe/food/sibling drama, hops right out of the car and walks himself to class like one of the big kids.