Long Arms of the Mom

I was getting the kiddos to bed last night and the usual tirades began.  Three kids equals three individuals, each with his/her own needs and desires.  Too bad there’s only one mom.

Partway through a small stack of books, the youngest starts in wanting a drink.  This isn’t an everyday occurrence, but enough that some folks would just make sure to carry up a glass of water every night.  Oh yeah, he’s newly potty trained.  Not exactly the perfect candidate for unlimited beverage opportunities all night long.

Marshaling my inner calm, I say to him, “Do  you want me to read this book before or after I get you your drink?”  This becomes a three-ring circus within moments, but I manage to keep my calm.  However, I must have started to get that look on my face.  You might remember your own mom getting a version of it:  the “I’m loosing my patience here” look.

He looks up at me and says, “It’s too bad your one arm isn’t really stretchy, because then it could go down and get my drink while you stayed right here and kept reading to me.”

Maybe it was the grin, maybe it was the logic.  All I know is it made me laugh.  And wrap my rather short arms around him for a big hug.

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