Ok, I had a difficult day…
The eightieth time I reminded Olivia to pick up her toys. The umpteenth time I had to tell the girls to stop arguing about how many My Little Ponys each was sharing (Hattie was upset about how many Olivia had, though according to an impromptu pony census, Hattie’s herd actually numbered greater.) Don’t even get me started about the copious amount of oatmeal that had made it to the kitchen floor under their chairs, practically requiring a pneumatic hammer to chissel clear.
It was close enough to naptime that I sent them to separate rooms… they truly needed the rest & I needed the break.
As the quiet of the house helped lower my blood pressure & my primitive fight/flight response was replaced by more reasonable thought, it made me very aware of how little patience I actually had with my girls… especially when they started behaving like normal 5 & 3yr olds. By extension, it made me extremely appreciative of God’s patience with me, especially when I start behaving like a… well, a normal, flawed human being incapable of living a God-pleasing life apart from His grace.