Tonight's story

Elias is calling for me in his sleep. Clear as day: "Mama!" But he's asleep. I'm glad I'm in his dreams.

Kindred was a little bit of a nut tonight. He got out of control (in the way three year-olds do sometimes) at PJ time, and I told him he couldn't have any of Daddy's birthday cake since he wasn't being a good listener. He wailed, of course, but I stood my ground. (I might have slipped him a few crumbs, but on the whole he got nuthin.)

I should add that when we all went to sing Happy Birthday again, Kindred requested first that we sing the song in Spanish, and then during the English version belted, "Haaaaappy Biiiirthday, dear MY-COAL"....

Fast forward. Kindred is in bed and I'm sitting at his feet. He was mad that I'd said it was too late to read books. We were talking about that decision calmly, and then all of a sudden he kicked me hard in the chest. The thud could be heard around the room. I was shocked. When asked about his action, Kindred replied, "I was mad." I stood up, walked away and said, "Michael, deal with your son." Michael put him in time out in my bedroom. I sang to Elias and put him to bed, then went to find Kindred so he could apologize.

Then I walked in the room, Kindred said, "Mommy, I'm sorry." Then, "Mommy, I love you." And with that, my skinny boy climbed up and curled into my lap. I said, "Kindred you really hurt me." He said earnestly, "I'm so so sorry." Then his eyes got big. "Let me listen to your heart," he ordered gently, and he pressed his ear up to my chest. He sighed with relief and laid back onto my arm. "It's ok. I can hear your heart. It isn't bleeding."