Laughter in the Kitchen

Sometimes I have to remember that it's okay to sit on the kitchen counter.

Last night, I was doing my usual scurry in the kitchen: trying to get dinner organized, figuring out what to feed Olivia for dinner and for lunch tomorrow, trying to keep her from emptying every drawer while torturing the dog, spilling water everywhere, stealing the pepper mill to grind pepper all over the carpet...generally making it impossible to focus on anything but her. She is two, after all. Everything can cause a tantrum. Everything is fun—Saran wrap, tongs ("Be gentle with the doggie!"), a very sharp steak knife. We are always riding that fine line between sheer joy and utter frustration. They don't call em terrible twos for nothin!

So Olivia was hell bent on sitting on the counter last night. This is her new spot for wreaking havoc on the dinner process. After I relented with my usual guilty surrender, she perched herself and decided to dismantle the KitchenAid. She was doing a very good job of it when she knocked the plastic splatter shield onto the formica counter. Don't know what it was about the sound that it made, but you would have thought a talking monkey was telling really funny jokes or something. She laughed and laughed and laughed. She dropped it again and laughed again. Tears streaming down her red face—finally the good tears!—over and over she did it, until I'm sure her belly ached and her attention span was nearing it's inevitable swift end. I ran out as soon as I acknowledged the Kodak moment to grab the camera—wondering if this would be the time that she finally fell off the counter—and raced back to capture about 15 shots of the hilarity. James came in and we stood there bewildered but laughed our heads off. I think the dog was even laughing. Or maybe he was just sure Olivia was going to throw him some food as soon she composed herself.

A friend on Facebook posted this yesterday: "...loves that what could be a 5-minute roundtrip between the house and Starbucks takes 45 minutes with Henry. Every dandelion is exciting; every roly poly amazing; every found penny a treasure. And of course every flower must be smelled. One of life's great pleasures: watching a two-year-old be two."

I move too fast. I try to do too much. I strive for perfection and am surprised when I fail. But when 2-year-old laughter erupts in the kitchen, everything is okay.