As he started to regain energy this evening, he also started driving me bananas. Finally, while I tried to clean up dishes and he insisted on spinning circles through the kitchen while shrieking some horrible toy commercial jingle, I told him he needed to go in the other room because I was losing patience. I spoke through clenched teeth the way my own mother did when we realized she was about to transform to Mrs. Hyde. Thank God he picked up the cues and retreated to the corner of the dining room. I breathed. Deeply.
|Still not sure what's at the center of the page, but I sure do like the text.|
This little boy pushes every one of my buttons, it's true. Most days I can barely keep up with him, physically and mentally. But at the end of every day, in the quiet space before we all fall asleep, there's nowhere better than huggled next to this child, his wiry wiggly body finally relaxed, his long eyelashes sheltering those big green eyes (remember when they sparkled bluer than topaz?), and all my hopes and dreams and wishes for him floating in the air around us.