Five minutes?

Last night Jory pissed me off by being super slow doing everything.  How in the world does it take 20 minutes to pick up trash in our house?  Am I the Queen of Versailles?

So after he finally finished I told him to go to bed.  When I tucked him, he asked if I could lay with him but I was mad, had a headache, and was just tired

so I said, no.

He asked, “Just for five minutes?  For four minutes?   Two minutes?  One minute?”

“No.”  I kissed him and left.

At some point I woke up and After the First 48 was on.  I started listening and I heard the mom say, I told my sixteen-year-old son I loved him as I walked out the door, and he gave me one of those mom, whatever looks and the next day I was planning his funeral.

So I got out of bed, went into Jory's room and carried him back to my bed.  I kissed the top of his head and as I tucked him in I thanked God that I was blessed with my precious little boy.

"I love you, Jory," I said, as I slid into bed next to him.