Tuesday, December 6, 2011

Show Down

Collin and I cuddled up with some Christmas books this afternoon.

It began in the way all really good disagreements start, centered on something as substantial as a veggie pot pie. It all started when I placed a piping hot pot pie onto the center of our dining room table. I stepped back to admire my culinary handiwork, a product of a hefty amount of afternoon preparation.

The boys crowded around the table. I watched as their smiles faded. Grumbles filtered out of four little mouths. But with deep resignation, they fell into their seats and begrudgingly accepted child-size portions of the entree. Slowly three boys began eating, but one held firm. He would not be eating pot pie, no ma'am.

Battle lines were drown: one stubborn son versus one equally bullheaded mother. We each stood firm. Threats were launched and punishments were served. In the end, a miniscule portion of pot pie was consumed and two family members were still at odds.

Said son went to bed shortly thereafter with tension still hovering.

I ducked into my bed and curled up with a book, seeking respite in the quiet of my adult sanctuary. A few minutes later, that son appeared at my door, clutching his old photo album. He asked if we could look at it together. I nodded, and he crept into my bed.

We flipped through the pages and smiled as we reflected on old memories and sweet moments. With each turn of the page, two moods softened and affection bloomed.

As we turned to the final page, my son looked at me with soft eyes and said, "Will you still sing Happy Birthday to me on my birthday?"

I smiled and said, "Of course I will. I just won't serve pot pie."

The show down was over.

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