I'm sick and tired (literally and figuratively speaking) for there's still a lot to be fixed before our house blessing. When Juancho came in to my room...
Juan: Mom, you look sold.
Me: What?
Juan: You look sold.
Me: What do you mean by that?
Juan: Sold means sad + old = sold.
Me: Really? I look old? I'm not sad but tired. I'm also sick, baby.
I felt sad with what my son said. When I came in to his room to tuck him to bed, I saw what he wrote on his whiteboard...
Now I'm not sold but rather solve. Solve with the fact that my son is honest enough to tell me his feelings and views. And solve with the fact that even if I'm sad and old my son still finds me pretty.
“The soul is healed by being with children.”
― Fyodor Dostoyevsky
