“I DON’T WANNA GO TO BED!” he hollered, tearing out of my grasp and throwing himself onto the couch. The more I tried to reason with my little guy, the more he fought me. My simmering anger rose like a thermometer on a hot day at the beach, until, finally, we were both about to explode.
Taking a step back, I turned and whispered a quick prayer. “Lord, help me love this child well in this moment, because otherwise I just might kill him!”
Facing him again, I noticed his bright red cheeks and his little hands, balled into fists. His body was rigid, like a scared rabbit ready to bolt. Angry tears pooled behind his squinting eyes, and his forehead crinkled fiercely, his tiny chin tucked in defiance.
Something broke inside me. My heart instantly softened with love for my angry little warrior.
Lifting my hands amicably, I slowly moved forward, crouching down on the floor in front of him. He looked at me out of the corner of his eyes, wondering just what his momma was up to…
