You know how when you wake up in the morning, there's that fuzzy place that kind of hovers in between sleep and awakeness? And how sometimes you'll dream something there, or sometimes you'll actually talk to someone, but you won't remember either the dream or the conversation until later in the day?
Late this afternoon I remembered that this morning, right as the bright-a$% sun was starting to glare through the window, Sam came and stoood next to me.
Normally when your toddler comes to wake you up it means you have to *do* something. Like they'll say, "Mommy, why is all that poop on the wall?" Or, "Mommy, I'm going to throw uuu[wretching ensues]."
This morning, Sam the three year old had found a cup.
Sam has this annoying habit of coming up to me and shaking my arm as hard as he can. Well, two days ago I was holding this cup. It was full of boiling water. And he ran up to me and started shaking my arm. Well, the boiling water went all over my arms, all over my legs and stomach. Because my husband was *really* quick with the cold water, no real harm was done. But, obviously, it caused much loud screaming, then swearing, then yelling at Sam because there was a *reason* I always tell him NOT to shake my arm like that. Sam ran out of the room, crying.
So, this morning, two whole days later, he sees the cup.
I was sleeping, and he came up to my bed and said, "I didn't mean to do it, Mommy."
I don't know what, exactly, I said back. (Like I said before, I didn't even really remember this conversation until late this afternoon.)
He said, "I know I hurt you, and I didn't mean to do it. And I'm really sorry. I'll try not to hurt you anymore."
I think I might have kissed him in my sleep and then maybe his dad shuffled him away into the bathroom.
It wasn't until later that I realized how sweet the whole thing was. He wasn't coming looking for anything except forgiveness.
Amazing how *human* little guys can be sometimes, isn't it?