I got down on my knees and held his squishy, stinky hands and waited for the fire trucks to pass.
Then looked him in the eyes and said I’m sorry. I’m sorry momma snapped.
He took my face in those same sticky hands and looked me in the eyes and said its ok momma.
Grace from a two year old. Nothing sweeter.
Instantly granted and forgotten with the next request for more apple juice please.
He is growing and learning and time is passing and I am aging and learning more from him than vice versa I’m sure.
He pushes me to the point…the point right before I go crazy daily. He pushes me past it -quite frequently too.
Those days I lean in extra long because the boycub needs to be held extra.
God blessed me big and I fail daily, but man am I glad He chose me.