Than to sit on a piece of driftwood on an upstate New York beach on a gray, windy, 40-degree December day watching children play with zebra mussel shells.
I made it an hour before insisting--over loud objections--that we had to go back up to the house.
They'll thank me for my sacrifices one day.*
* No, they won't. Who ever thanks their parents for this kind of sacrifice? Come to think of it . . . thank you, Mom and Dad, for the hours you spent at pools and beaches, suffering through elementary school band recitals and interminable Little League games, and all the other things that you did only out of love for me. I get it now. And I appreciate it.
I read this entry to my own mother who appreciated it greatly! Mary in MN
ReplyDeleteYou were worth every minute of it, just like your sons.
ReplyDelete