... that the sweetness of little boy-Mama love had given way to pre-teen, eye-rolling angst and resentment, my eldest has to go and throw me a curve ball this morning.
Sorting through schoolwork to keep/toss, he nonchalantly hands me a packet of papers tied together with red ribbons. "Ugh, this was supposed to be for Mother's Day," he mumbled. "I guess it's a little late. "
As I opened the first page and began to read the letter he had written, tears welled up in my eyes. This child, a brilliant kid dangling precariously between boyhood and teenage awkwardness, expressed to me feelings I never knew he had. I was blown away.
Daniel and I are so much alike that we often butt heads and find ourselves frustrated with each other's stubborn personalities. But reading his words allowed me a glimpse at the tender heart inside the often-moody exterior. It transported me back to those little boy hugs and kisses when you felt blessed that they were oblivious to your flaws and shortcomings. It was a refreshing reminder that maybe, just maybe, I'm not the "bad guy" afterall.
My son will never comprehend the value of the gift he gave me this morning. Belated or not, it was the best Mother's Day surprise I could have ever asked for.
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