Yesterday afternoon was not a great one. The kids were overly tired for some reason, and both came home from daycare whiney and quick to tears. I was tired and frustrated myself from a long day of teaching material that I just don’t feel like my students are understanding. Chris came home in a ho-hum mood and quickly became irritated with all the fussing and crying happening in the house.
It just just one of those afternoons, you know?
At the dinner table, we talked with the kids about their days, but both were cranky and not wanting to say much, so conversation was like pulling teeth. Finally, Chris and I gave up and sat in silence while the kids moaned about having to eat chicken with “red stuff” (barbecue sauce… heaven forbid!).
After a few minutes of tired silence, Bean looked at me and said, “What’s in my heart, mom?”
I was only half paying attention, and so I mumbled without looking up, “I don’t know, Bean.”
But he didn’t give up. “No, Mom,” he insisted, leaning across the table and forcing me to look at him. “What’s in my heart?”
Still not understanding and not being in the mood for a game, I snapped, “I don’t know, Michael!”
“GOD LIVES IN MY HEART!” he cried out, triumphantly. “Remember, Mom? God lives in our hearts!”
Chris and I looked at each other and smiled, and I leaned over and ruffled Bean Man’s hair. “That’s right, buddy,” I said. “I didn’t forget.”
“Let’s try it again,” he said, in his very best teacher voice. “What’s in my heart, Mom?”
“God is in your heart,” I replied this time.
“That’s right,” he said. And satisfied, he sat back down and continued to grumble about dinner.
Sometimes, we need people to just get up in our face and point out the obvious, don’t we?