Important to him

My Demitri had a difficult morning.

His beloved, yellow bouncy ball with the smiley face sticking it's tongue out was found. Destroyed.

In tears, and torrential outpours of wailing, he met me half-way on the stairs and showed me what had happened to his beloved toy.

His toy, a gift from a birthday party not one week ago.

As I held him I knew that it was I who had, mistakingly, accidently, crushed his ball.

Destroyed, in many, crumbling, pieces.

He sobbed in my arms, allowing me to caress his hair and tickle his back- means of relaxation.

And I told him I knew what had become of his beloved.

In the night, as I checked on my boys, the stepstool beside his bottom buck, I stepped upon it and felt the small crushing. I did not know then, as I used the lift to tuck his top bunk, older brother back under his cover, that I would be devastating my second child come morning.

And although it was accidental, and although it didn't seem like too big a deal to me, I explained what had happened to him and asked him to forgive me.

I also promised him a new ball.

And as we sat there, in the middle of the 16 stairs, I held him and loved on him refusing to be the first to let go.

Angela Thomas had said it so well in Do You Think I'm Beautiful?. Something along the lines of never being the first to pull away. Of allowing her beloved (children) all the time of mending they need.

And I thought of that as we sat and he bawled.

And I thought of it again as the minutes went by and he was still so very, very upset.

And I remembered this gem, which I found on Pinterest:

And I was thankful for such truth.

Such simple, simply truth.

And so I held him until he pulled away, remembering that my Beloved was feeling saddened by the loss of his beloved and I loved him enough to be there.