a flashback with Gabriel.

This afternoon while I was putting Gabriel and Eli down for naps, my oldest was being particularly difficult to deal with. I eased from gentle cajoling into flat-out yelling to get him to settle down and change his clothes. After they were tucked in, I glanced at Gabriel as I slowly closed the door: he glared at me from beneath furrowed brows like I was the meanest person there ever was. Downstairs, I changed Noah's diaper and gave him a few kisses before setting him in the Jumperoo to play for awhile so I could do the dishes.

When I peeked in on Gabriel, he stirred and turned to look at me from his pillow. At the sight of me, his face scrunched up with anger once again. I'm still getting used to this, having a child old enough to hold a grudge against me. I climbed into bed next to him and he threw his little arm over me. "Sorry for yelling," I offered. "That's okay, Mama," he said into my shoulder. And he leaned his forehead against mine and went to sleep within a few minutes, just the way he did when he was a little baby. Snuggled with him there, I could hear Noah bouncing around in the Jumperoo and was amazed at the passage of time; I can still remember when we bought it for Gabriel, can see him in my mind laughing and grinning from the blue seat. And now he's a lanky little boy old enough to forgive his mother, but still young enough to want to cuddle as he falls asleep.