So you remember my post from a couple days ago where I waxed poetic over my darling, sweet, thoughful boys? One boy in particular? Actually, the only one with the capacity for complex thought. Remember that?

Fast forward to today. I went to pick up Harry from school as usual and walked into the building with Liam in the stroller so I could chat with a friend of mine, the mother of one of Harry’s classmates. After the bell rang and the boys were dismissed, we walked back to my van which was on the way this friend of mine walks home. We stopped by the van to chat a little while the boys played in the snow behind us. Sounds pretty normal, if not DULL, doesn’t it?

It was, at least, it was until I got pelted in the side of my FACE by a slushy snowball. Since I was wearing my glasses, it got behind those and everything. For some insane reason, my darling, sweet, thoughtful boy had thrown a snowball at my head. Something he’d never once before even thought about doing. I brushed it off as I said my goodbyes to my friend and herded both my boys into the van. Then I asked Harry, “What on earth made you think THAT was a good idea??”

“Well, [my friend's son] told me to do it.” Because, you know, that’s a good reason to do something. I wasn’t terribly mad about it. After all, it was just a snowball (albeit a cold one, its been FREEZING lately). Somehow darling, sweet, thoughtful Harry decided that I didn’t love him anymore because I said I wasn’t sure if I’d want to snuggle in my chair after school with a boy that throws snowballs at me. Said entirely sarcastically, of course.

So now I find myself trying to make HIM feel better. And I’m the one who had freezing slush in my eye! Ahh… motherhood.