A least it’s not Barney.
What I really want to do is talk to my mom. You’d think by now I would be used to it, the not calling or talking, the not eating meals together.
But I am never quite there. Never quite over it.
Distraction has settled into my days recently. It was there last night, too, in the middle of it. It isn’t omnipresent, though it is persistent and appears whenever life is weighing heavily on my mind.
And I realize what is troubling me as I sit down unable to write what I am meant to write—I need to talk to my mom.
SO WHY SHOULD YOU (SOMETIMES) BEND TO THE WILL OF YOUR HALF-PINT DICTATOR?
by: Tanya Enberg
We can’t please toddlers for a pretty simple reason: they can be impossible to please.
At just two years old, our son is a mighty force to be reckoned with. He is sweet, so, so sweet, and loving, and kind. He is generous with hugs (I want a big hug, mommy, he frequently asks), and he has me wrapped around his soft little finger.