I’ve been on a cleaning and organizing binge lately. <\/p>\n
The closet in the living room? It’s clean and useful again, instead of a mass of random shit that got shoved in there. My bedroom closet? Even better, so much more room. The 2 plastic tubs (one large, one small) of Logan’s stuff we kept on the kitchen counter? Cleaned, organized, and rearranged into 2 medium sized tubs. <\/p>\n
This past Tuesday I got around to redoing the messy silverware drawer. It was fine when it was just Katie and I, but with all of Logan’s utensils and bottle cleaners and such added in, it was less than optimal. So while on lunch from work I went to The Container Store and got a more efficient silverware organization tray that could handle everything we needed with some room to spare.<\/p>\n
When Logan and I got home Tuesday evening he decided he wanted to ride his motorcycle around the living room so I went to the silverware drawer and started pulling everything out. When I pulled the old tray out, there were a few items that had been pushed to the back over time. One of them was a light blue plastic scoop that I originally thought was for coffee, but then I realized it was too small for that. I stared at it for a few seconds before I remembered it was an old baby formula scoop I had saved just in case we ever needed one.<\/p>\n
I kept staring at it and, after a few more seconds, I realized I felt sad.<\/p>\n
I have had many important moments as a father, going all the way back to finding out I was going to become one after 20 years of being told it wouldn’t happen. Some moments are happy, some are sad. Some are both. This one was was undoubtedly sad.<\/p>\n
Sad it took me me a few seconds to recognize an object I used multiple times every day for a year to help feed my boy. Sad I no longer needed to use it. Sad I no longer needed to keep it as a backup. Sad that my boy grew up so fast.<\/p>\n
I must have stared at it for a solid twenty seconds before I walked over and put it in the trash, feeling a bit silly that I felt like I was throwing away a piece of my son’s childhood. I can remember the first time I heard my boy cry, the first time he held my finger, the first time I showed him to his Mother, and so many other things. And now here we are and Logan turns 17 months old in a few days. We’re a hop, a skip, and a small jump to 18 months. In the aftermath of tossing out the scoop, for the first time, that was a hard concept to fathom. My boy, a year and a half old?<\/p>\n
I kept working, mindlessly moving spoons and forks and knives over to their new home. When I was just about finished, Logan got off his motorcycle and came over to see what I was doing. I gave him one of his spoons to carry around, but he just held it, watching me finish up what I was doing. When I got done and looked over at him, he handed the spoon back to me and I put it in its new home. <\/p>\n
I said, “Thanks buddy,” and he gave me a smile. And then we went into the living room to play.<\/p>\n
![\"\"](\"http:\/\/www.iowabiker.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2018\/03\/il_570xN.874669845_o1tc.jpg\")
<\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"