Last night when Casey was told to spend some time reading, I learned that you don’t have to read on weekends. What an interesting concept that is—a new thought! Of course, he had successfully avoided reading on several school nights this week so, in my mind, this was make-up night. We just didn’t see eye-to-eye on this, at all, which resulted in an out-of-proportion battle of the wills. As in most of these situations, no one won. I was mad and he went to bed early and nothing was read. Actually, I lost because I didn’t handle it well at all.
Continuing along this line, this morning I was still a little ticked and didn’t feel like being the warm, cuddly and loving gramma he has grown to love—and I wasn’t. When it was time for Ken to take him early to his Little League game as he was going out the door his last words were, “Gramma, you’re going to come to my game aren’t you?” I sort of growled and gave an undecipherable answer, knowing that I was being much more immature than my years allow for.
Within 3 minutes of the car pulling out of the driveway, the doorbell rang. By the time I opened the door, the DHL truck was pulling away. Looking down I saw a large, long box that could only hold one thing-- flowers—
From Casey to Gramma, Happy Mother’s Day.And I had just sent him away with a growl. Do we ever learn or are we doomed to keep repeating mistakes?
I went to the game, which I was going to do all along anyway. Casey had two great triples, with 4 RBI’s. He was hot! I like to think it was because he saw Gramma in the stands and he was happy.
Mad is not good and it doesn't work!