Me: "Who has the best seat in the house, me or daddy?"

Adam: "Well, Daddy's is nice, but yours is best. Your's is squishier."

Thursday, March 31, 2011


I have a crabby boy in the house.  He is cranky and doesn't want to be talked to or touched.  He feels miserable and when I try to help him to feel better, he just gets mad at me.  Apparently, I am somehow the source of his misery.  I do things for him because I know they are the best thing for him in the long run, but at the moment that I do them, he hollers his brains out and tries to get away from me. 

I wish I could just tell him how much I love him, and that just telling him that would make him feel better.  I wish that he could see that mama (and papa) sometimes knows best.  I wish that he could see the situation through my eyes,
knowing what I know.

One of my boys is furious we have enrolled him in an arts and sciences high school for the fall.  We think it is going to be an amazing experience for him.  The campus is small, they have drama, music, pottery, heck... you can even ride a skateboard around on campus during lunch.  There are only a few hundred kids, as compared with 2,500 at the local gang and drug-ridden HS.  There has not been a single fight on campus all year.  His dad works there, too, which will give him a place of refuge if he needs it, and a ride every day. 

One of my other boys has a cold.  Bet you can't guess which is which.

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