Sunday mornings are always a little hectic at our place. Micah has meetings to go to before church, so I need to get the boys – and myself – ready and out the door by 9:25 or we’ll have to wait for the train and be ten minutes late. Lately the boys have been really good about getting themselves dressed in the morning, which helps a lot. Unless they forget that it is Sunday and then I have to get them to change their clothes again, which is nobody’s favorite thing.
Last Sunday we were doing really well, totally on schedule to make it out the door on time – even with the wardrobe change – when I found Manchild lying in his brother’s bed, one sock halfway on, the other being lazily waved over his head.
“What are you doing!?” I demanded in a tone I knew instantly to be too sharp. And too loud.
Immediately I went to him, helped him get his socks on, and started on damage control. “I’m sorry, I was just surprised to see you lying there. Are you okay? Are you feeling alright? I didn’t mean to be so sharp. You’re okay.” And then I hugged him and dried the tears he couldn’t hold back.
I’ve recommitted (once again) to not raise my voice in anger or frustration to my family. Because nobody likes to be yelled at.