I’ll tell you what my son’s stay-at-home mom is doing this week: potty training. It’s hard, demanding work for a mom, and tough on a little kid (I had no idea kids would be so emotionally sensitive about this). This is going to sound stupid and cheesy to people who don’t have kids, but I’m going to say it anyway: I’m so grateful that my little boy is being trained and taken care of in this by his mom, who loves him, and whom he trusts. I can see with my own eyes what a difference her being there to guide him through this is making — it’s a pitifully small thing from an adult perspective, but a Very Big Deal for three-year-olds — and what a difference her presence makes in his life every day. Ours is a culture that undervalues the labor stay-at-home moms do. About the only real thanks they get are the hugs and kisses and “I love yous” from their children. It is a labor of love, and such thanks are priceless. I guess you have to see it for yourself to appreciate it.
Anyway, like I said, this week is Potty Training Week around my place, so if you come over, watch where you step. On my way out this morning, Matthew told me not to tee-tee on the floor at National Review. What, does this kid think we’re a bunch of libertarians over here? Happily, his Uncle Rich runs a pretty tight ship, as these things go, so the lad worries in vain.