I love my children. I love watching them unfold into their unique and interesting selves.
My boys haven't tapped into their scholastic genius just yet, but they have their own spectacular qualities.
Bailey is loaded with cleverness and wit. He's fast on his intellectual feet. His humor is often beyond his years, as is his reflection. He's my chess-player when it comes to life. He understands how one move will effect the next ten. EXCEPT when he has an impulse. Then it's all out the window (including himself, unfortunately).
They are beautiful, miracles, undeserved gifts. They are good... except when they're not.
What we may not have prepared ourselves for is the kid-poops (both literal and figurative). There's the unflushed toilets, missed all-together toilets, t.p. mishaps, clogged toilets, and, of course, the frantic, "mom! my lego man fell in the toilet!!". And that's all the pre-puberty crap. (eh he.. see what I did there?)
But, I think it may be the figurative poops which catch us the most off-guard. Wet towels on the floor, crayons in the laundry, the half-eaten yogurt stashed behind the lava lamp, poorly planned bug collections, open-mouthed chewing, complete disregard of privacy needs, ungratefulness, selective hearing impairment, door slamming, the crumbs scattered in my bed, the lack of "my" anything... Please feel free to add to this list (it would be good to hear that it's not just my kids).
And, for some reason, other baby's poops seem to stink even more. Here-in lies a primary obstacle for blended families... particularly of the Cherklee genre. Klee described it well once. He said it's like waking up with amnesia and being told, "here, this is your family, now love it." Poop and all...