After my husband and I had a particularly tearful battle over toothbrushing with our seven year-old last night, the four year-old came sneaking out of his bedroom.
“Mommy?” he asked.
“Go to bed,” I automatically answered. “It’s not time to talk.”
“Okay, then can you just put this in brother’s lunchbox?” The four year old hands me a crookedly folded note. My heart melts, because I have a good idea what’s inside it.
With a hug, I take the note and promise to put it in the lunchbox. Of course, I cannot resist a peek before putting it away. It was exactly what I thought it would be.