The End Of My Motherly Rope

Luke missed several days of school this week due to having strep throat. It goes without saying, but he and I spent A LOT of time together. Most Some of the time was great. We snuggled and read books, but there were a few moments I’d like to forget. 

Yesterday morning I was laying in bed reading a book. 

I know. I know. To a child, a mother sitting down to read a book by herself is the universal symbol for “What can I break, or set on fire?” Clearly, I wasn’t thinking.

Luke casually walked into my bedroom and said, “I blew my nose just like you asked me to.”

There was something in his voice that struck me as odd…

“Well, I didn’t hear you blow your nose. Are you sure you didn’t just flush the commode to make me think that you blew your nose?”

“Well, there wasn’t any toilet paper on the roll, so I used Q-Tips BECAUSE I’M SMART IN MY BRAIN! Oh, but they’re stuck in the potty because they wouldn’t flush down.” And he skipped away.

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