My Little Rock

Ever have a rock in your shoe? It's surprising how worrisome something so small can be, isn't it? Well, today I had a 40 pound rock worrying me. This rock slowly followed me all day as I ran countless errands, stayed on my heels close enough to step on my flip flops, and whined the word "mama" repeatedly, especially when I was on the phone. Every time I said something the rock disagreed with, which in this particular rock's case that was everything that came out of my mouth, the rock would cry and scream and whine. In public. For several minutes.

Sigh...I know that all parents feel like dropping their children off at the post office at different times in their childhood. A few have even gone so far as getting the box ready. I did not reach that point today, but near the end of the evening, when my child, aka "the worrisome rock" had whined in protest for approximately the 114th time, I hotly retorted that she did not like anything today! She stood there silently regarding me, and with complete solemness responded, "I like you, Mama." It's hard to think about box dimensions for mailing her when she says sweet things like that.