My oldest son, Noah, is 10 1/2 years old. Most of you know that by now. His slender, tanned frame is very hugable. I absolutely adore his face. And his heart. Oh, the tenderness that exudes from him. He is truly going to be my tender warrior. But with all of those amazing qualities are things about him that cause frustration in me. His lack of organization and carelessness are a couple. I try to remind myself that even though he is growing up right in front of my very eyes, he is still very much a child. And he will make childish mistakes. The other night there was a slushie spill in the freezer and it was a terrible mess. (Because of course, you are supposed to put your leftover slushies in the freezer.) It was in the evening and I was already down for the count. Meaning, my frustration level was higher than normal and I was ready to just plop down and drown myself in some HGTV. I mean, who doesn’t love Suzanne Whang? Feeling bad, Noah gets some towels and starts to clean up the mess. I snapped at him and told him that I’d take care of it because he wouldn’t be able to do it right. With a defeated look on his face, he left the kitchen and went upstairs. Ten minutes later I was in the laundry room putting the messy towels into the washer when he walked in and said, “Mom, I’m not trying to be disrespectful, but please don’t underestimate what I can do.” Gulp. Even though I was flabbergasted at his comment, I hugged him and apologized profusely to him. He is one amazing child.