I was putting my youngest mini-me down to bed for the one millionth time and for the one millionth time my 2 year old mini-me got back up, opened the door and asked, "Watta' mommy."
I took a deep breath, remembered that he was my miracle and walked him, calmly, back to bed.
Kisses good night.
A tuck of the cover.
I shut the door and waited just down the hall for him to open the door ... again.
As I was sitting criss-cross-apple-sauced in my hallway I wondered when this part of his tenacious two's would end.
Did I want it to end?
I mean, don't I want to raise a kid that's tenacious and doesn't take the first 'no' as the final answer?
Isn't that what I'm doing being a writer?
I know for certain, there will be a first no.
I know for certain it won't deter me.
Maybe, there's an agent sitting criss-cross-apple-sauce in her literary hallway, waiting for me to poke my head out and say, "Wanna read my book?"
Maybe, just maybe, there's an editor in that same hallway, having a carpet picnic with tea and scones who might say, "She's not giving up ... Let's take a look at what she's got."
Maybe ... just maybe.
But for now, the 2year old mini-me just poked his head out and asked for a glass of water.
I think, maybe, he deserves a sip ... and a cuddle.