I can’t imagine scrolling menus just to say, “I. Am. Angry.”
I can’t imagine scrolling menus just to say, “I. Am. Angry.”
He has choices now. I made the effort to find his outlet.
I’m no longer putting all his eggs in one silent basket.
We share t-shirts…and he’s outgrowing them. Lord help me.
The eye contact now was very different than the eye contact mere hours earlier.
It’s easy to play the victim when people see you as one.
I reminded her that her brother loved her and would never hurt her on purpose.
It’s not about his appreciation. It’s about mine.
The second I say, “My kid isn’t a runner,” is the second he runs into the Atlantic Ocean.
My boy understands ways to get his way.
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