In our morning routine today, somewhere in the process of preparing myself for the day and then Tyler, Tucker decided to go on his morning run. Around the house. Or really, just back and forth as far as possible, from the window in his bedroom to the window in my bathroom.
At topspeed.
It's a favorite, and I nearly lose my mind everyday over this routine. It just does not allow for an especially relaxing environment, but I don't suppose that's why he chooses to do it. (But he's a boy. He has to run. And I have to choose my battles. I choose to let him jog the second floor instead of, oh, jumping off the dresser. Just as an example.)
As he blitzed past me at one moment, I realized he was wearing my glasses.
Let's pause here for a moment to recall that I have vision issues. My glasses do not simply magnify; they are carefully crafted with prisms and bifocals. They are designed to trick my brain, to compensate for poor depth perception, to make things appear different than they are so my eyes can last the day.
And my son was wearing them on his face. Looking through them. As he ran as fast as he could, in a very confined space.
It gives me a headache just thinking about it. And it makes my eyes tired.
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