Please forgive me once.
Please forgive me twice.
There was a moment when you were crying and pointing at your mouth I was angry with you. Angry that I had been laying with you for an hour and a half and you were still not asleep.
You seemed uncomfortable, I asked if you were sore and you said yes, I asked you where, with tears in your eyes you pushed your fingers inside your mouth.
You were crying and I realised I was wrong to be angry and that I had misunderstood your cries of pain for cries of stubbornness and not wanting to sleep ness.
In yours clumsy toddler speech I had mistaken the real problem. I had jumped to conclusions.
You forgave me once
You fell asleep and I slowly got up, you woke and cried much longer, you held your arms to me calling my name: “mummy, cuddle.”
This time I knew you were sore. I wasn’t angry, more concerned. You had fallen off the slide today, thoughts of dread crossed my mind, were you injured? I cuddled you , smothered you in my love. Close to my breasts where I know you seek comfort. I held you there and your crying subsided.
You forgave me twice.