Last night was one of THOSE nights.  One of those nights where Chad needed to take over bedtime because I was thinking ugly thoughts about my children.  The sad thing is, it was a good evening until about the last thirty minutes…

The kids did their homework right away so they could play outside without interruption until supper.  Supper was going well, then Grace said she wasn’t feeling well – which I later decided was just a desire to not eat her vegetables because she recovered as soon as supper was over.  After supper we went for a family walk.  We usually go right, the kids wanted to go left.  Sure!  Can we pet these strangers’ dog?  Sure!  Can we go left at the corner instead of right, making it a really long walk?  Sure!  Can we play in the soccer field at Taylor University?  Not tonight.  WORST NIGHT EVER.  How is it that all of the yeses can be erased with one no?  All of the good that we’ve poured into their little buckets gets dumped out with one teeny tiny no.  Donuts for dessert are no longer memorable.  One sad straggler will now walk one full block behind us in protest.  That same sad straggler will also write yet another a “Dear Mom” note and tape it to her door, which Chad wisely did not let me read until this morning.  They continued to stomp around and argue as they got ready for bed, which we had to repeatedly ask them not to do.

And let us not forget the glorious announcement from Grace that the toilet was leaking.  Turns out Eli just had bad aim last night.  Deep breaths…

I suppose you could say my bucket was also dumped out quite easily.  It’s just amazing to me how quickly and easily something becomes the worst or you never or whatever other superlative they want to use in the moment.  I let them be sad, I let them have their feelings, but they do not get to sit where they are and decide not to listen as Chad and I continue to walk towards home.

So, last night was one of THOSE nights when I needed to go upstairs after they were asleep and look at their sweet sleeping faces.  No one was rolling their eyes, or talking back, or pouting with arms crossed.  They were simply my babies.

This reminds me, on THOSE days, that we do not eat our children.

But I get why some animals do.

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