It had been one of those days.
I was toast. I sat on our stairs, gathering the strength to climb them to get the kids ready for bed.
“Mom! When I say ‘warmed up yogurt’ you come running to the trash can!”
Huh? This didn’t sound good. At all.
“WARMED UP YOGURT!”
I climbed down off the stairs into the kitchen.
Waiting for me, on the trash can, was this:
“What is that?” I asked.
“It’s a heart. Because I love you.”
My own heart swelled a little. I gave him a hug. He hugged back. A real one. A hug out of love.
“Go back to the stairs,” he said. “When I say ‘warmed up yogurt’ come back to trash can.”
I obliged. Who could say no at this point?
“WARMED UP YOGURT!!!”
“More hearts because I really love you!”
This repeated one more time. And one more picture:
Flying high just like the real thing.
I don’t know how he knew I needed this. Usually, when my stress level soars, so does his. We end up in a feedback loop of overload.
But tonight? A picture on a trash can is worth a thousand words.
“When I was a little boy, (when I was just a boy)
And the devil would call my name (when I was just a boy)
I’d say “now who do,
Who do you think you’re fooling? ” (when I was just a boy)
I’m a consecrated boy (when I was just a boy)
I’m a singer in a Sunday choir
Oh , my mama loves, she loves me
She get down on her knees and hug me
Like she loves me like a rock
She rocks me like the rock of ages
And loves me
She love me, love me, love me, love me” – Loves Me Like A Rock by Paul Simon