Some days, down in the trenches, you forget. You forget that they love you unconditionally. All those messes are not some secret plot to bring you down. To them, those messes are forts, and tea parties, and all sorts of imaginings. I suppose I seem like the evil ogre in a fairy tale, when I start demanding that it be picked up.
This morning, there was a rustling in the hallway and then they burst through the door with the poster they had made. Those eager, dancing eyes, looking into mine, hoping that their masterpiece will be appreciated. And it was. Oh, it was!
|The proud artists|
|This is me and Ben. Forever my little boy and my little intercessor in Heaven.|
|Anna, Jack, Therese, and Peter.|
|Tony, Sophie, and Olivia|
|My other gift, that we all picked out yesterday. The butterfly bush is for the kids. I hope it dries up enough today to do some planting!|
You can't have Mother's Day without kids. It just isn't possible. And I have some great ones, if I do say so myself.