My Big Helper

I told Nathan this story last night and he said I definitely need to write it down. So this will be a part 2 from yesterday.

Carter loves to be a helper. Particularly if cookies are being made. But, in general, he loves to help. I am guilty of being impatient and not letting him help as much as I should. Yesterday was a long day. Laundry, kitchen cleaning, and living room excavating were all on my to do list. Christmas decoration debris was everywhere. It seemed like the more I cleaned up, the more that there was to clean. I was already tired from Will's hour long crying session that began just after midnight. I would sweep a room and both Carter and Will would walk right through the dust pile, redistributing it every time I turned to sweep in a new direction. I was also responsible for feeding the three of us since Nathan was visiting his grandfather during the supper hour. By four o'clock I knew a trip to McDonald's was imminent. It's hard for me to admit that, but there it is. We went through the drive-through. Carter was excited to get a Happy Meal which is what he calls the toy; we've explained that it's the whole meal and he finally starting to get it.
Once we got home, I had many items to get into the house: Will, drinks, food, etc., etc. Carter started to insist that he could carry things in for me as I unstrapped Will from his carseat. I tried to direct him to take only what I thought he could carry. He kept refusing me, very kindly and earnestly, "no, no, no I can get it. You go on. I'll get it." I relented and carried Will into the house. I put him down, and turned to go back out to the car and here came my helper loaded down with two happy meals, and a juice box. I opened the door for him and he said, "Here ya go. There's just one more trip." I told him that he could come in and start eating and I would get it. He sweetly said, "Oh, no, no, no! I can get it for you." And he dashed off, returning with the rest of the booty.
I sat there dazed for a moment, realizing how big he's grown. I've tried putting a heavy book on his head, but he informs me that he's supposed to grow up. Kindergarten is only about 8 months away. That's shorter than pregnancy. Looks like I'll have to try cigarettes. Desperate times call for desperate measures.