this morning I woke up extremely grouchy, since I'm completely absorbed in a fascinating novel and my only real time to read is at night after everyone goes to bed. and sometimes you and grant still wake up during the night, even if only for a few minutes, but it still gives me interrupted sleep. I woke up to the sound of you yelling from the bathroom, "mommy, daddy, the sun is out and I'm awake now!" and the other sound that rung in my ears was grant talking and grunting in his bed. because of the book I'm reading, all night I dreamt that the Taliban were living in our home and were going to practically eat us alive. not a good night's rest, to say the least. to say I woke up grouchy is being generous.
as the morning progressed, grant was crying from hunger and you wanted to play with toys and needed my help assembling them. I snapped at you about having to make food and promising to help you later, but my tone of voice was anything but promising. very softly you spoke, "mommy, I'm going to my room now because you're not being very kind to me." whoa...I think a slap in the face would have been much easier to take. I had to verbally admit that you were right and although I apologized and hugged you, the reality is that I still hurt you and left a negative impression.
thank you for speaking ever so gently, yet striking my very heart. it spoke volumes above any yelling, crying or tantrum. your insight is amazing, and yet I have to constantly ask myself, "is she really only 3?"
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