Yesterday was a miserable day. It was rainy and dark and the kids just wouldn’t stop even for a moment, Buzz leading the brigade. He slammed doors and emptied the entire contents of his toy box after I had just picked it all up and ran off with a number of things he wasn’t supposed to touch and he made his sister cry and threw a car at his brother resulting in a bump by his eye. The list, it goes on. Each instance I tried to sit down, 15 seconds later I was back up again. I was hanging on the verge of tears. He spilled a trail of milk and jumped on the couch and by the time the evening rolled around I had to lock myself in the shower just to keep my head from exploding.
When the time for bed came, it wasn’t soon enough.
In the dark of his room, just him and I. Tucking his growing body into bed, I wished for silence, a moment of calm, a chance to breathe after a horrible day. I don’t want to be mad at him. I hate when I’m mad at him. How can such a little boy cause so much frustration?
“You were a monster today”, I said, quietly, to myself more than him.
“I love you”, he replied, pointing from his heart to mine, the way I always say it to them.
“I love you”, I echoed, exhaling every negative emotion from the day. “Always.”