cleaning up

I've been going through old files, trying to make some order in this new almost-office. I bought some neat wire things to hold file folders upright on my industrial-grade shelves, and then I moved all sorts of things that had been "filed" in the bookcase upstairs down here to my little spot. In the process I discovered all sorts of story ideas, article ideas, half-written essays. It's amazing to me how much I've written (not published, mind you) over the past several years. I'm not claiming it's good, but it did at least jog my memory about some things.

So here's one memory, from when Nick was about two and a half.

Recently I had to warn Nick repeatedly to stop touching the computer. Don't click the mouse, don't push the buttons. He was jealous, I know, of this machine that claims my time, my attention. So he kept on, despite my growing exasperation. As I pushed his hands away again, saying, "No, don't push the buttons," he finally gave up, consoling himself with a vision of the future. "When I grow up I will be big and I will be the mommy and I will push all the buttons."

I love that.