I asked my son to clean his room tonight before bed. I told him he could leave the wonderful mansion he built with his legos intact, but to just clean up the unused blocks. Although his room was cleaned as I asked, when I went into his room a little later, I almost tripped over his mansion because it was in the middle of the floor. I tried very earnestly to move the house without wrecking it. However, I was unsuccessful, toppling his marvelous masterpiece over.
Feeling terrible, I broke the news to him gently. He ran into his room and looked at it, and promptly burst into heartwrenching tears. And my heart broke. He had loved his house.
So, I told him that we would sit down right there and then and build a new one. His tears were instantly gone and were replaced with a brilliant smile.
As I sat there working with my son, I pondered the day I had with him. He really is a cheerful, charming little chap. There is not a time that I can recall when, after praising him or loving him that he doesn't reciprocate. For a busy, active, five-year-old boy, he is NEVER too busy to love me right back. If I say, "mommy is so thankful for the wonderful boy God gave her", he'll say, "and I'm so thankful for the wonderful mommy God gave me", usually with many kisses to go along with it. If I kiss him once, he'll kiss me twice. It's not that Hannah doesn't appreciate any of this (as any child would), she just does not always respond in like manner.
The moral of this little story? Even though I posted recently My Confession, expressing my frustration about my boy, I want it known here and now that it was all A LIE. That story was about somebody else's little boy. Not my perfectly precious, saintly little cherub.
My conscience is clear.