I sat on my bed, wrapped in my cocoon of down comforter and pillows, relishing the feeling of the soft satiny sheets against my skin. I watched him ready for the end of the long, long day as we talked. Lamplight illuminated the crisp white of the duvet, highlighting his rugged and familiar features. It is our routine. My comfortable. The pattern. I was sharing my frustrations with the day. Frustrations with the kids. The myriad disappointments in myself and my failure to handle it all properly, just that day.
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impact on a child's heart /
One particular little girl caught my attention. As I'd crossed the threshold, someone said "Lily's crying because she's scared for the TCAPs". Her beautiful golden complexion was blotchy and red from her emotion. Her eyes were welled with tears. Her posture communicated defeat and insecurity. She was nervously walking all around the classroom. The urge to ask her if she needed a hug bubbled up inside of me. But I squelched it. New teacher. New classroom. Older kids. Kids I don't know. "You can't do that", the discouraging voice whispered in my head. I listened.
Read Morelove is slow /
I wonder if other people have major parenting revelations in the floor of Sporting Goods stores. I sure did last week.
Those adorable, tiny, orange mesh shorts immediately crumpled to the floor. Her eyes became wide in shock, she quickly bent and grabbed to pull them up, and stood up with the shorts. And they immediately fell right back to the floor.
Then it happened.
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