*Not pictured, Mister Baby.
During the week that sucked beyond compare, we took our kids to The Oregon Garden to see Santa and the lights. We lasted less than an hour. It was like 9 degrees that Sunday night up there. Everett forgot his gloves, kids were crying (not ours, thankfully) because it was so darn cold and we Oregonians are not used to that kind of weather. We had planned to meet friends, but it was too cold for community.
In the rush to load our frigid kids into the car, one of us ran over my well-loved jogging stroller. Oops.
That night, my very sweet 2 1/2 year old asked me to lay with her in her bed.
"No, honey. I can't lay with you." I answered.
"No, Mommy. Can you pway with me?" She asked.
"No, honey, I can't play with you right now." I answered.
"Mommy, can you please PWAY with me?" She asked again.
And because we both knew that this was the answer to our horrible week, I sat beside her and we prayed. And somehow there was gratitude after all of this nonsense.
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