Forgive me, darling girl, for i am imperfect. My temper is too short these days, my patience is thin, and my voice- it really should be softer. I told you mommy was feeling tight inside and that i was cranky and frustrated. and you. you know what you told me? i'll sing you a song mama. and the itsy bitsy spider it was. it was beautiful. your voice was simple and sweet, but as sweet as your little voice was mommy was still tight inside. sometimes things build up in mommy so tight, they're hard to defuse. so you. you said, "mommy needs a hug" and two little hands patted my back as your body pressed up against mine. but that still wasn't quite enough. so with wisdom far beyond your two young years, you suggested some water and a cracker- and you're right a snack probably would have helped.
you knew that mommy was off. and you readily accepted each apology i gave with forgiveness. some day i hope to be as open and deep as you are. you tried hard to be good. you tried to be helpful. you tried hard to give mommy the space that i needed. you always seem to know best. so you. you came up to me and put your palm in mine and sat with me on the edge of the bed while i was cross. and we were mad and confused and frustrated together. and that made all the difference.