Oh the Season for broken pants

As the bottomless sink of dirty dishes keep my white porcelean sink away from my would be admiring eyes and the small Barbie doll pieces keep my bare feet bruised from their tendency to veer off their path I try to remember the reason I chose motherhood. Then my two year old once agains strips naked in the living room announcing she has forgotten (again!) to use the potty in the potty seat I have so willing supplied for her, and my two older children argue over which Saturday morning cartoon we will have to endure while they spill their fruit loops on the floor, I take a deep breath and stand up from my Mac and follow the small (wet) steps of my youngest into her room to put on yet another dry pair of pants. I reach for the shorts lying on the shelf since the weather promises to be warm today I decide to break out some summer clothes for the first time since I packed them away. I bend down to let the little pee pee devil step into them. Then suddenly she looks up sadly at me as if she felt a need to feel sorry for my ignorance then shook her head "Oh no Mommy these pants are broke!" I look down at her as she rubs the bottoms of her pudgy legs that are indeed showing from underneath the shorts "See Mommy I can see my Leeegs!" Then I remember that moments like these are the reason the dirty dishes and danged barbie doll pieces covering my floor do not matter so much after all.