I'm not gonna lie, the three of us have had a bit of a hard time adjusting to our days at home together. Max does great when there's someone else around, but this morning he got his favorite dinosaurs taken away after throwing them at Henry when Little H frustrated the tar out of him by not playing with him (the downside of not being able to control your arms). He sobbed profusely and I ended up on the floor with him cradled in my arms for fifteen minutes as he mourned the loss of his dinosaurs and, honestly, it felt like one of my lowest "What am I supposed to do?!" mom moments. Max isn't a huge tantrum thrower, but when he throws them, they're historic and it takes everything in me to not cry along with him.
Anyway, a few hours later, once his dinosaurs (and dignity!) were back in tact, he waltzed up to me as I was loading the dishwasher and said "I'm a man, Mommy! I'm Mommy's man!" followed up by "I nice". And he is! He is my nice little boy who spent his evening dancing to music and kissing his little brother on the forehead while sipping a ridiculously unhealthy Steak and Shake milkshake after a healthy dinner.
Pretty sure that makes up for this morning.