I have no chance of winning now.

I lost any chance I might have had to win the Mom of the Year award this morning. How? Did I yell at him? No. Did I make him eat his veggies or clean his room? No again. So what heinous crime against all that is holy to toddlers did I commit? I broke the bank. The piggy bank to be exact. I knocked it onto the floor (accidentally) and all his precious pennies went everywhere. I suck!

After explaining to my whimpering four year old why it was that I could not glue the gazillion tiny pieces of pink (yes pink) ceramic back together (at which point he informed me that if TR was home he would be able to fix it) and putting all the pennies in an empty baby wipes box I had to apologize and promise (multiple times) to buy a new piggy. He has reminded me several times today that he is not likely to forget this anytime soon. He's four and a master of guilt trips already. That's my boy!

To appease my guilt I postponed the errands I had planned for today and took him to the park. We went to the playground across the street from where I got married- which to my shock he remembered and pointed out. There was a woman there with a boy about my son's age and a girl about two. I know this woman. I know she went to my high school and was younger than me, but I could not remember her name. So we gave each other that greeting where you say "hi" and stare quizzically at each other as if racking your brain for why the other one looks familiar. The boys played, she ate lunch with her mom, and I read a parenting magazine. When it started to look gray and the chance of rain was fast becoming apparent, we went home. He was happy, I felt less guilty, and (almost) all was right with the world.