Tonight it was time for bed. One minute it wasn't, and then ... we're done. Good night. I was at my limit. A little of her fault. A lot of mine. But I was done for the night.
When she finally got in bed, she didn't want to sing her songs. And I didn't want to say her prayers. I did it anyway. I told her to go first, and she prayed in her own way that it would be my turn, then her turn, then my turn, then her turn again. So, I realized she wanted me to choose the words for her tonight. So, I started:
Heavenly Father
She repeated me in her own way.
We're thankful for Quinn's milk and her dog-dog and bob-bob and her passey.
She repeated each item on the list.
We're sorry we didn't always get along today.
She said, "I'm sorry, Mommy. I'm sorry." In her nicest voice.
I kept praying.
And she just listened for a while.
We both said Amen.
A few minutes after saying good night, I crept back into her room. She wasn't sleeping yet. I got a blanket and laid on the floor. We talked for a few minutes. I said I was sorry too ... again. She told me a story about her passey, and then I said good night again.
There are lots of reasons to pray. And you are never too young. Or too old.
(P.S. Welcome to my blog, Grandmother. I love you. You're still invite if you change your mind.)
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