My kids want me to have grey hair |Vol. 1|

He had just been in my room ten minutes prior asking me to open the straw of his juice box.

I heard a “BOOM!” I knew it was bad so I prepared myself mentally while walking down the hallway holding Logan. Last time I felt like this I came around the corner to Harper’s head being stuck in a chair. As I continued walking down the hall I could smell the evidence. It was fruity. I walked around the corner and....

Seriously. He started crying. Like HE was the victim. I couldn’t even comprehend. I said, “what were you doing?” He said, “nothing.” I thought for a moment he tried to pour his self a cup of kool aid. Then I remembered there was no kool aid in the fridge. I said, “you were trying to make kool aid?” “I JUST WANTED SOME!” He cried. I walked away to put Logan down. “You’re about to get me a new shirt?” He said with confidence- no longer crying. If you’re wondering what I did he got three pops on the bottom with a belt and sent to bed. I knew he thought I was going to hurt him... and it wasn’t about that. I needed him to know this couldn’t happen again and I could tell by the fear in his eyes he got that. The compassion in me was also so happy he didn’t get cut when he fell through that plastic box he tried to stand on. Kool aid packets were everywhere. And popsicles. On top of that he tried to do it in the cabinet like I wasn’t going to find out. Did he not think I’d ask where this sugarless pitcher of kool aid care from? Boy I tell you! This is what I deal with as a mom. A boy mom. A three year old mom. A Harper mom. This definitely goes into the list of things to bring up when he asks be for a car in 14 years. He owes me. Lord make a testimony out of this boy. 🙏🏾

Signed,

Disturbingly calm about this

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