If I'm being honest, I'm not sure "the 4s" are going to be my favorite. My mom always said people always act like the threes are the hardest but they have nothing on the fours. Earlier this week (in an effort to not stay at home for days at a time) I for some reason thought it was a good idea to take all 3 kids to the mall by myself to meet a friend and her kids. It ended with me carrying Shepherd kicking and screaming out of the mall, while pushing a stroller and praying my two year old continued following us out the door instead of acting like his usual crazy self.
Last night I was laying in bed with Shepherd, trying to get him to go to sleep. I was giving him extra attention because I felt bad that all week we'd been having a battle of wills. I have to constantly remind myself that I need to share my calm, not join in on his chaos. And I fail at that way too often.
Anyway, I was asking him questions and practicing how high he could count and talking about our day. I asked him how old he was. "19." "Oh no, you're not 19. If you were 19 I'd be crying all day because you'd be big and wouldn't live with me anymore." When I said that my sweet boy started crying real tears at the thought.
Later that night my mom sent me this (someone's FB status):
I am so thankful for the promises in Lamentations.
"The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases;
His mercies never come to and end;
They are new every morning;
great is your faithfulness."
His mercies are new each morning.