It is the wee hours of morning as I sit here awake.
I have been praying over my middle child, my Mr. Kevin, as well as our oldest, Mr. Michael.
The two are at the puberty stage, with hormones erupting and bodies changing, with thinking mom and dad don't understand, nor the real ability to effectively communicate what they think and feel.
I pray for more good mornings, with Mr. Kevin waking up happy and well rested, greeting me with a "Hi Mom!" and scaring the blazes out of me. I look forward to the knuckle bumps we share as he goes through his morning routine as he prepares for school. I even look forward to the hugs and kisses before he leaves.
And the "awww Mom" when I raspberry his cheek in return.
Not every morning works out this way, but I cherish the ones that do.
Despite the setbacks and upsets of the night, I look forward to the hugs and kisses my "baby boy" still carries. Despite having autism, he gives them freely to me.
I look forward to Mr. Michael getting dressed in his hurried fashion, arms flailing and feet seldom touching the floor as he chatters 20 miles a minute in a high pitch squeal of enthusiasm. I pray this morning is a good morning and it's enthusiasm instead of the squall of defiance. I envy his energy!
Here soon my hugs and kisses should wake up and greet me.
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