Stop. Let that sink in a minute.
Talk about pressure.
Unforunately, my children's mother has a lot of work to do when it comes to being Christ-like. So, instead of seeing my children reflect holy behaviors, I see them reflect all of my imperfections.
Last week, Joe had to work late every. single. night. I picked up kids, took them to soccer, got them home and fed them dinner by myself after working an especially challenging week. It was getting late. I was exhausted and starving and Andie would not come in the front door.
Me: Andie, it's time to come inside. I need you to come to me now.
Andie doesn't move. She smiles her sassy little grin and takes a step further away.
Me: (deep breath). Andie, I'm counting to three. One. Two--
Sam: Andie! Come inside now! NOW! You better come inside or I'm gonna leave ya! Andie! Come inside or you can't watch a movie! One-two-three-four-[always forgets five]-six-seven-eight-nine-ten! Hustle your muscle*!
If that weren't bad enough, before I can do anything else, Sam changes parenting tacts.
Sam: (cooing voice) Andie, do you want to come inside with me? I have a candy for ya. I have caaan-dy!
Really. I must do better.
*I actually say, "Hustle your bustle", which is what a skating coach used to say to me in my younger days, but I think I may adopt Sam's "Hustle your muscle"...it's catchier.