My Brow and its Furrow.

Monday night as I was tucking in my 4 year old, we were recapping the day and the terrible tantrum that he threw after swim lessons (the screaming and the hitting because he wanted to stay longer to swim in the kiddie pool, meantime I was of course, completely embarrassed and wanting to run away and hide in a bush), and I put in my early request to him that we try to do better Tuesday.

I explained (again) that we will be having swim lessons again tomorrow, but this time, when swim lessons are over and Mommy says it's time to go, it's time to go. Even if we are sad about leaving. "OK? There is no hitting and yelling, do you understand?" I asked. "Can we do that?" 

And he nodded and said, "Yes." (Of course it didn't quite go that way on Tuesday, but the tantrum was at least down to just a mere 30 seconds this time around, which is something anyway. I can at least hope for 5 seconds and then no seconds the days after, right?)

Anyway, then I said, "OK then. We'll try to do better tomorrow." And as I leaned in to kiss him goodnight, he started wiping my head with his blanket. And I asked, "What are you doing?"

"Wiping the mad off your forehead."


Darned cuteness.

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Weighed in at the Sisterhood today here. Just in case you're interested.
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