Had a rough morning with my two-year old, including the following:
-Him being woken up at 5:30 a.m. by his screaming sister, leading to him bouncing into our room at 5:32 with 5 books in hand
-Him throwing an entire roll of toilet paper in the toilet because, after all, “That is where toilet paper goes, Mommy.”
-Him “accidentally” spilling his breakfast milk all over the walls, floor, chair, himself, etc.
-His continuous resistance to potty training, leading to Mommy dealing with a whole lot of poop in the back of our mini-van at what was supposed to be a fun visit to the local fire station
-Him crying that he wants to go home for the first 10 minutes of being at the fire station, followed by 5 minutes of crying at the end because he does not want to leave the fire station
So, by lunch time (which is directly followed by NAP TIME!!) Mommy was pretty ready for a break from this little boy.
I put his lunch in front of him and said with a sigh, “Okay, eat it up please.”
Rather than taking a bite, he just looked at me. Just as I was about to snap out of sheer exhaustion and frustration, he said, “Mommy, we forgot our prayer.”
Suddenly all of my irritation that had built over the previous 7 hours was washed away and replaced by an overwhelming love and pride in the amazing little boy I am raising. I reached over, gave him a hug and kiss and said, “Okay, fold your hands.” After our prayer, I told him he was a good boy and that Jesus was proud of him too.