Mommy, why are you so mad at me? he asked quietly, glancing up at me from his jam sandwich.
I stopped storming around the kitchen, feeling like a knife had just been plunged into my heart. I looked at his sweet face, so earnest and hurt, filled with confusion as to what he had done wrong. It wasn't his fault. None of this is his fault. Yet he was the unintentional recipient of my anger.
I dropped to my knees in front of him and took his little face in my hands. I looked deep into his eyes and apologized to him from the depths of my soul.
I'm not mad at you, I reassured him, knowing full well that my actions had been communicating exactly the opposite. I'm so sorry, my Angel. You didn't do anything wrong.
OK, Mommy, he replied, everything already forgotten. I love you. Can I have some apple juice?
Dear Lord, please make me worthy of this beautiful boy, whose light shines so bright and so pure.
[Note: My frustration with Bear not being able to sleep got the better of me tonight. I got my hopes up when he fell asleep at a decent time, only to have them dashed when he woke up an hour later. It was not my finest Mommy moment.]