Being thankful for the little things

As I get older, I start to appreciate the value of thankfulness. On good days and bad days, for the big things and the little things.

I know it’s easier said that done because I used to hate it when kindly folks told me to be thankful for the little things on a monumentally bad day. If not for my immense self-control, I would have punched every single one of them in the liver.

I’m glad I didn’t because now I realize that the cliches are actually true and being thankful for the little things is strangely therapeutic, especially on difficult days.

So today, I’m thankful.

For walls that are covered with crayon scribbles because they could have easily been covered with permanent marker ink.

For embarrassing toddler questions because non-embarrassing ones are totally boring.

For sticky fingers that smear chocolate on my face because it usually comes with a juicy, chocolatey, slobbery kiss.

For poopy diapers because it means I don’t have to deal with constipation.

For toys that are strewn all over the living room because sometimes I get to play with it too.

For tiny clothes that are strewn all over the living room because come on, tiny clothes are cute anywhere.

For dishes to clean and clothes to wash and toys to pack because I’m um, masochistic.

For incessant high-pitched toddler whines because… ok, this is pushing it a little. How about for ear plugs that drown out the annoying toddler whines?

For goodnight kisses and morning cuddles because it makes up for everything else I have to put up with.

For every single day that I get to stay home with the kids and watch them discover the world.

Happy thanksgiving!