Getting Through

I was having one of those nights.

You know, the kind where it just needs to end so you can start again tomorrow and hope for a better day.

I needed the kids to go to bed. Just GO to bed.

It was time. Everything was ready. I was more than ready.

I sent the boys upstairs to wait for me in their beds while I finished getting Bradley ready. I was rushing... I could feel my sigh of relief drawing near.

I took Bradley into the boys' room so we could have a quick family prayer before saying goodnight. Kaleb started talking. I tried to shut it out because my head was about to explode.

He was whining about his foot.

I didn't want to hear it.

I didn't want to hear anything... especially not any excuses for not going to bed this very second.

He said something about blood.

I quickly cut off his story, checked his foot, told him it was a scab and that he was fine, and then I added, "Who wants to say the prayer tonight?" Kaleb readily volunteered, and this is what he said.


"Dear Heavenly Father,
Thank you for this day. Thank you that Brabby could hurt me, and my foot. And make me bleed and pull my hair. And I don't like him. Name of Jesus Christ, Amen."

Clever little guy. He found a way to make me listen.