They are at it again. Fussing. Fighting. Arguing. Not playing fair. So we have a time out, and they go then go on their way. Minutes later, you guessed it. They are at it. Again. Brothers. What more do you expect?
He comes up behind me. Wraps his skinny, little arms around me and hugs me. "Come here, Mama," he orders. I bend down, and my middle child kisses me on the cheek. I can count the number of times he has done that on one hand. And he is six. Lately, though, that is what he is into. Kissing his mama on the cheek. Sweet boy, please do that again. They are so far and few.
"Skype?" I got that text message again. I love that message. Day or night I get logged on as quickly as I can. We spend that time together, long minutes, short minutes, cherished minutes. Longing to hold each other once again.
Oops. I did it again. Lost temper. Ate too much. Gossiped. But He forgave me again. And He will again because His love for me is unfailing. Unchanging.
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