Kyle and I went to Tulsa this weekend, to visit my grandma, and we had a really nice (albeit too-quick) visit, but Tulsa has this sort of irritating quality: it's five hours away. I remember it being much, much closer from my past visits, but that's probably because I was reading R.L. Stine in the passenger seat while my mom did the driving. Kyle was a champ in the car, so I can't quite complain except oh wait yes I can. FIVE HOURS IS A LONG TIME AT THE WHEEL SO HELP ME.
When we got back, I was just exhausted. Kyle didn't sleep that great while we were away, so when it came time to take a nap upon our return and he FLAT-OUT REFUSED, I got, well, let's just say upset, OK? He was angrily crying when he should have been peacefully sleeping, so I stomped into his room, picked up his thrown pacifier from the ground, laid him back down and snarled, "IT IS NAP TIME, WE ARE NAPPING." Nothing quite like a stomping, angry mother to put you in the napping mood.
There was no napping, from either of us, but you saw that coming, didn't you?
He's asleep now, and of course he's already forgotten about my little fit caused by his little fit, but I've been beating myself up over it since I laid him down for bed. He won't always be so little and he won't always have such a quick-to-erase-things memory. He'll eventually remember when I lose my cool. Eventually, it'll matter to both of us the way it matters to just me now.
I always find it funny to think of what we remember from our childhoods. I remember the strangest things, from a really early age. I remember both through-the-roof moments and ridiculously sweet ones, too, and there's no real rhyme or reason to what stands out or why. I imagine it'll be the same for Kyle.
He'll remember the good with the bad, and no matter how much I'd prefer there to be none of the latter, there will be.
All I can hope, I suppose, is that there will be much, much more of the former.