At 3:50 this morning, I awoke to Jonan calling through the bedroom door, “Mom, can you help Braylee get back in the bed?”
|Mommy to the rescue!|
(Image Courtesy of artur84 / FreeDigitalPhotos.net)
And as I thought of Jonan, I realized he didn't seem all that concerned about Braylee being injured, which wasn't like him. He’s the kid who can’t focus in school if a classmate is crying or upset, the one who seemed able to read and respond to my emotions before he knew his ABCs.
Watching him take Braylee’s tumble in literal stride—I mean, could he walk any more casually?—I entered their bedroom and realized my error.