This morning, when I was trying to make up for time lost…do to useless trips downstairs…where I accomplished absolutely nothing, my youngest son put me in my place. Yes, my 9-year-old scolded me – gently of course.
I guess I was being a bit inpatient with him. I was also complaining a little too much…about having to do too many things (which I wasn’t exactly doing very well, by the way). That was when he told me that “just because I was having a bad day [because of the crutches] didn’t mean that I needed to ruin his day too.” He said other things too, such as that I wasn’t doing EVERYTHING, and reminding me that he *was* helping me.
It’s true – ALL of it. I was scolded by a 9-year-old and I deserved it.