It may be a tantrum…
But it’s only a 1 hour tantrum instead of an all day tantrum.
There may be stomping and yelling….
But there’s not any hitting, or throwing, or swearing.
There may be sneaking…
But it’s only one or two instead of the whole package.
There may be stinky armpits…
But at least there’s a clean bum.
We’ve come a long way.
Blessings!
Hannah
Dear Gabe,
Happy 17.
You are officially old. 
Today was tough. It wasn’t as smooth as we would have liked. It wasn’t as polished as last year’s events. You felt. You needed. We tried our best. We’ll keep trying.
You were trying hard today. I could see it, and I want you to know. I. Saw. You. I saw you remember to take the trash out this morning without being asked. I saw you take the dogs out without complaining. Was that even a smile on your face? Oh, yeah! I caught that too. You were trying so hard.
It was tough. I know it was. Your little brother is struggling, and that makes you hurt, because you want Mom and Dad more than what you are getting. I know. It sucks. Especially on YOUR day.
So this week I will remember to tell you your story, and next weekend we will celebrate again, because it’s your coming home day! The day you came to us for good.
And this week I will lay your head in my lap and stroke your hair and tell you your story.
Our story.
Happy 17, my eldest. My precious Yishai. My Gift.
