This past week has been a little difficult with the boys at bedtime. They have laughed and played and laughed some more every night. As each day passed, I had less and less tolerance for them both. On Friday night, I laid Ronin down first, waited until he was asleep then sent Davis up. All it took was hearing his voice from downstairs, and I was up there in a hurry. I walked with purpose into his room, and just as I approached his bed, he says to me, "I was just talking to God."
"Can you talk a little softer?" And I walked out of the room, deflated of every ounce of steam.