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  • Writer's pictureK.C. Runkel

It Wasn't Our Finest Moment

It wasn't our finest moment.

In fact, if a wandering neighbor happened to be passing by outside, I wouldn't be surprised by a random wellness check later on.

At 4, tantrums are still very much a thing in this household. Of course, the bigger the child the bigger the feelings. And louder the voice.

Try as I did to stay calm, my voice rose. So did his. Then came the tears. The heaving sobs.

The "you're the worst mom EVER's!"

I tried not to let my own words reflect my hurt. And I certainly didn't want to lash out in a moment of frustration. So I stepped back, took a deep breath, then calmly asked him to leave.

"I just can't be around you when you're acting like this," I said. "I'd be happy to talk to you when you've taken the time to calm down."

And you know what he did next?

He didn't leave!

Instead, he launched himself at me, wrapping his tiny arms around my waist. This is where I got really choked up.

Because hugging it out is a thing in this household. The thing is—I'm the only one that does it. I initiate the hugs!

But today was different.

Instead of doing as I asked—leaving me alone—he came to me.

Me! The person he was most angry at. The worst mom in the world! His mortal enemy.

But also, his source of comfort.

After a good long hug, I sat him on the couch. He started doing some deep breathing while I finished feeding his brother lunch. When I came back, I found him fast asleep.

Angelic as always.

And I broke just a little. Because even in the chaos that happened ten minutes prior, I now found myself in a winning moment. A memory for the ages.

My son ran to me when he could have run away. When I pushed him away!

I hope that never changes.

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