I came into the boys room just as we were starting our morning clean up time to find Alan changing pants. When I inquired as to the reason for this wardrobe change, he informed me he wanted to wear shorts with a pocket.
Then I learned the reason for his pocket need: a toy cell phone. And, of course, cell phones belong in pockets. At least around here they do.
As we worked our way through cleanup time, it seemed every time I looked up Alan was fiddling with his cell phone instead of the task at hand, so I told him to leave it in his pocket or I was going to take it. I felt a little harsh with that statement, more like a school-teacher than a mama. But in case you haven't heard, wishy-washiness isn't exactly recommended in parenting, so I let my edict stand.
We got through the rest of our cleanup and a good bit of school before I saw the phone again. Turns out Alan's phone was too big for his 4T pockets and kept sliding out.
Alan saw me observing his trouble, and bless his little heart, he laid his phone up on the counter where I was making lunch:
"Here mama - you can just take it. It won't stay in my pocket."
Thank goodness I knew he was tired of messing with it - otherwise that sweet submissiveness might have been just too much for my heart to take!
I tried to talk him in to keeping his phone, but it sat there on the counter for a better part of the afternoon while Alan happily went about his business... cell phone free.
I sure love that boy!
(And I am pretty certain there is a lesson here about laying down our burdens instead of letting them become distractions, hm?)