I’m sorry, Mama.

I know you wanted me to eat my breakfast.

I was just so excited for another big day. Besides, pancakes are the best food for building. I just couldn’t wait to make you a castle. A castle for a princess.

Poor Mama.

I saw you holding my pants open for me, shaking them and begging me to put them on already. I promise, I was gonna get dressed!

I just thought it was a good time to kiss your forehead and tell you I love you.

I made you frustrated, Mama.

I know it took me forever to go potty. I heard you sigh about a million times.

“Please, baby. Hurry up,” you said.

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I guess maybe I shouldn’t have been playing with the toilet paper. But have you ever seen all the cool things you can do with it?

And then at hand-washing time, I wanted to make you smile.

But you didn’t laugh. Instead, I heard you say my whole name and snap at me.

“Wash your hands, please. Wash your hands. Wash. Your. Hands.”

So maybe it wasn’t a good time to splash the water and make silly faces at you in the mirror.

I’m really sorry, Mama.

But I kept trying. I just want you to be as happy as I am.

I know you were upset. Your voice kept getting louder and your face looked angry.

I guess I was s’posed to put on my shoes.

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“Can we EVER get out of this house on time?” you asked. “Why do mornings always go like this?”

I wasn’t trying to make us late.

I just thought it was a good time for dancing. I thought dancing with me was your favorite.

I’m so sorry, Mama.

You got so mad you yelled at me. I was ready to get in the car . . . almost.

It just looked like a good time to jump in the muddy water. The puddle was RIGHT THERE, Mom. What was I supposed to do, pretend I didn’t see it?

I thought you wanted us to live an adventure, Mama.

Oh! Time to go.

I really like riding in the car with you. It calms you down.

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You said you were sorry. That was nice. You told me you love me over and over. I know that, Mama.

It just hurts my heart when I make you mad. And I don’t really know how to say all of this to you yet. I’m still little.

So I decided to just be quiet and listen to the drive.

You looked back at me in your mirror just now.

“Perspective,” you said. And I don’t know what that means.

But you smiled.

So maybe we can dance tomorrow.

Originally published on the author’s Facebook page

PS – Remember, 2-year-olds aren’t terrible, they’re just trying to figure out life.

Cassie Gottula Shaw

I'm Cassie, and I'm a writer, mama, Jesus enthusiast, cliche coffee drinker, and lover of all the stories. I believe in the power of faith and empathy, radical inclusivity, and the magic and beauty of ordinary days. I'm inspired every day by the firm belief that we owe something to each otherlove and human connection. When I'm not writing, you can find me running from dinosaurs, building castles, pursuing joy, or watching the sun rise over the fields of Nebraska (coffee in hand) where my husband and I are raising two spectacular children. For more stories, visit my Facebook page, From the House on a Hill with Cassie Gottula Shaw; Instagram, Cassie Gottula Shaw; and the blog, fromthehouseonahill.com