I Don't Know Mark, You Tell Me

Sometimes when Mark complains it is bitter and caustic. Like early in the morning at the pool when he's dragged along to swim team practice and would rather be asleep in bed.

Sometimes when Mark complains he's downright amiable.

Today I gave him a project. He didn't like it. Olivia gave me one of those snazzy new Gospel Art Kits that's bound up like a notebook and in the interest of my ongoing quest for more shelf space, I was having Mark remove the old pictures out of page protectors in bulky binders.

He complained pleasantly as he did it. He'd tell me that his hands "were getting tired" then he'd get distracted and ask me about one of the pictures. Then he'd sing and hum a little then tell me, "This is going to last forever."

I mostly ignored his complaints, busy with my own project and relishing the time to answer his questions about pictures of Jesus and hear his explanation of who the Army of Helaman was.

Then he said, "Why do I have to do this Mom?"

I absently said, "Because I asked you to."

He said, "Is this good parenting?"

I looked up at his impish smile. "What do you think?" I asked.

He said, "I would say, no, this is not good parenting."

I shrugged and so did he and he kept taking the pictures out of their protectors.

I would that everyone could be so agreeable in their grievances....especially Mark, early in the morning, at the pool.