Flexible

Being a parent means learning to be flexible. At least for me. I make a plan. I evaluate the plan. I motivate myself to follow through with the plan. Then the plan evaporates has the unwelcome truth sets in. I greet my little one with a sunny, "Good morning!" In return I get, "Goot borning, Bobby." She's all sparkling eyes, big smile, and glistening upper lip. "By nose hurts," she informs me cheerfully.
I'm wiping her copiously dripping nose with one hand and grasping for the remnants of my plan with the other. The snot fairies have taken over, ripped my plan for the day (and most likely the next day) into tiny pieces which are blowing just out reach. Oh well. It could be worse. It could be the vomit fairies.
With that cheerful though in mind, I take the puzzle pieces of my plan and attempt to put them together another way. My life has become a Rubik's Cube. If I can't work it in one way, I figure out how to work it in another. I'm flexible.