Bear was having a rough time coping with his little brother this morning, who was giving us all an especially hefty does of ear-splitting two-year-oldness.
Bear got really quiet, then, almost in tears, he said "I want to say a mean word. It starts with s."
I gently asked him to come talk to me. Did a quick mental check of the angry words I sometimes let fly and vowed to do better. Wondered if he'd heard a new word at school.
He sat on my lap and put his head on my shoulder while I told him I understood that it some days it can feel hard to have a little brother, assured him he wasn't in trouble, and asked him what word he felt like saying.
Oh, my heart. I wish he could stay this sweet and innocent forever.