Monday~September 28, 2009
Miles watched me pick up a book and set it in the library bin and he said, "That's not a library book, Mom." So I pointed out the bar code on the top right corner and the library sticker on the back of the book. He accepted defeat in the argument and moved on.
Then, because I'm totally random and like to spice things up, I told him that he has a bar code on his forehead and a sticker on his bum. I said, "I guess I'll have to return you to the library soon. It was nice of them to let me borrow you, but now another mom needs a turn."
He rolled his eyes and smirked, but I immediately felt bad for my little joke. I could see the questions in his eyes as he mulled over this concept.
So I scooped him up and kissed his face off while exclaiming that I was only kidding, that he's MY boy and I'd never give him up. He giggled and ate up a string of about fifteen compliments.
I meant every word, and knew right then those words were begging to be said. I needed to hear myself saying them, and Miles needed to hear them too. Lately it's much easier for me to correct him all day long, rather than to remember to give him some praise. He's four and he acts like he's four so the response to him is often negative, an attempt at stopping one thing or another. I'm usually swooping in to tell him to control his body or speak kindly or SLOW DOWN.
I have to remember that his growing up is a whole lot of hard work for both of us, not just for me. I mean, many of the figurative books I've authored as a mother are ones I'd really rather return to the library...
Easy to Anger
She Nags, She Sighs
One day my personal library will be looking a whole lot better. I'll have my boys to thank for that. They stretch me and they teach me how to love more fully, even convincing me to find more of that love for myself. They're my little editors of the heart, and they are very good at their work.