Some days are perfect for playing football. Which, if you ask my boys, would be every day.
Some days call for messy creativity. Creativity that keeps everyone quietly occupied for a long time and that requires a multitude of trips to the bathroom sink for hand washing.
Some days call for messy creativity, but the kind that makes a mother's eyes bulge, her palms sweat, and her heart race. You know the kind: you tactfully praise and encourage but internally cringe and hyperventilate about.
And someday, someday sooner than I imagine, I'm going to look at my babies and wonder where the time went and if I gave them my best.