We had a rough day you and I, Owen. Its not always an easy gig being the oldest.
Today I expected to much. Too much responsibility for a little fella like yourself. I expected you to use problem solving skills with your siblings that you really shouldn't have as a six year old. I expected you to be physically and emotionally independent most of the day. I expected you do be impossibly intuitive to the tiring day I was having.
In the late afternoon when I was counting down the time for the day to be done, we were outside. I looked over at you sitting quietly in the sandbox. You were tired and your eyes were blinklessly, staring off in to the distance, just like I do when I get tired. The sun was shining on your perfect blonde hair and you were rubbing your soft cute hands back and forth, back and forth in the soothing sand. Your legs looked long and suntanned. they were straight in front of you and bent at the knees so skinny but sturdy.
Suddenly I wanted to take back all of those expectations. I didn't want you to be any of those things that day. I wanted you to be six. The very perfect six year old that you are. I said a quick and silent prayer of gratitude for all that you are. As I looked at you I thought about your smart, smart mind with those wheels always turning. I thought about your beating heart and your delicate eyelashes. I repented for my expectations and soaked in for a moment, the masterpiece of a person that you are.
tomorrows gonna be a better day buddy.
