I was dutifully recording notes
From a book on prayer.
They were probably helpful reminders.
And my son, bored, joined me.
I noticed his feet were uncomfortably close
To my open computer, and warned him.
“Be careful.”
But he’s five.
If I really worried,
I should have been the adult, and moved away.
And, yes, sooner or later, he tried to stick his feet
In a pillowcase, and that rebounded on my keys.
“Stop! Don’t hurt my computer!”
And I could feel the anger suffuse my face
As I threw the pillow off the bed.
He stared at me, impassive for a moment.
Until I recollected myself,
And closed the computer,
And said, “I probably just scared you, didn’t I?”
Then the face crumpled, and the tears began.
Sobbing, he hid his face.
And I needed to ask his forgiveness.
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