"Mommy!" Nick yells from his bedroom after a great night of going to bed without fussy.
"Great," my thoughts wonder, "here we go again. I've had a long day at work; Daddy's not home; I don't know if I can handle a long night with Nick." Outloud, I finally say, "What," in the meanest voice I can muster after a hecktic day, (which isn't too hard to come up with.)
"I meed a hug and a kiss," Nick replies in a matter-of-fact tone.
Frankly, after the day I've had, I could use another hug and a kiss. So, against my better judgement, fearing I'm about to start a new bad habit, I quickly go into Nick's room and grab a kiss and TWO hugs.
Life is better somehow. I don't NEED Nick to show me love. I don't mind if he doesn't like me or he's mad. When he shows me gentleness, however, it helps me see that even though I loose my temper more than I would like to admit, Nick is still learning gentleness and patience and kindness, and LOVE. For all the times I yell too loudly or don't spend time playing cars, he is still learning to take time to LOVE.