Eric and I had an argument this morning. A thundering, bellowing argument. It was regarding a convulated quagmire that I will not drag you into, but it involves Eric and a whole mess of money skipping him (us, m'fing us, which means I don't get this) and going straight to Olivia, when she's presumably too old to snort it right up her nose. As the mom of two (egads) kids, our argument was my fault* because I felt my lioness shackles going up regarding Jake. We gained our control, agreed to talk later, and about five minutes later Jake walked into the room.
Jake ambled in donning a strange expression, and I felt really disappointed in myself. I wondered how damaging this morning would be on him and I inwardly cringed. "Hey," I said to him.
"Hey," he responded. "I heard you guys arguing."
I felt so ashamed. "I'm sorry, dude. Were you scared?"
His eyes lit up. "No! It sounded like you guys were arguing over who loves me more!"
Hey, I'm nothing if not here to make your day.
*You will never hear this again.
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3 comments:
Thanks for the photo of Olivia's future home.
Were you scared when your parents fought? I was always terrified. You either:
- broke the parenting cycle of
fear and fighting OR
- you are raising your children
in a large mansion where the
sounds of arguing can't be
heard clearly by anyone.
Actually, my house is so small that even though Eric and I were thoughtfully fighting by semaphore, Jake could hear the whooshing of the flags from his bedroom.
I say, go for the money, I love that house!! Looks like you could argue as loud as you want and the kids would be on a seperate isolated wing with no fear.
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