Giggles in the Dark

I can hear them down the hall. Michael smirking back a laugh, half giggling through his nose trying to be quiet in the early morning. Tucker, noisier, wiggling in and out from under the bed. He's really too big to get under the bed anymore but that doesn't stop him. He'll squeeze himself under, then cry when he can't get back out again. I have to get him to lay on his side and slide him out skinny-wise, pink tongue kissing thankfulness all over my face, stumpy tail butt wagging at freedom. Back under the bed he scrambles...It's tempting to leave him under there, maybe he'd learn not to get under if he can't get back out on his own. But I always save him, so why not.

Maybe that's part of where I go wrong with Michael. I always save him. It hurts to watch him learning painful lessons, even though I know it's essential to life. I need to step back, hard as it is breaking this mama's heart, and let him fall and learn to pick himself up, not slide him out skinny-wise when he's found himself in a tough spot of his own choosing. I somehow have to learn to harden my soft mama heart against pathetic, sad puppy cries and little boy growing pains, knowing the sooner they begin to learn life lessons aren't always going to get fixed by someone else, then maybe they'll learn to better avoid these traps that trip before the traps are to big to be fixed by Mama...Funny how their lessons somehow become our lessons first.

Two wild wiggle worms under my bed

My Christmas Cactus in mad bloom for the fourth year in a row-I love this plant!

Baby from the mama Christmas Cactus, transplanted last spring, first bloom--love it!