She was a mother who wasn't certain of her skills. Sometimes the kids left for school without breakfast, she couldn't seem to get all her housework done, dinner was often a catastrophe, and the laundry was a huge pile. What's wrong with me? She would think. Other mothers seemed perfect. It couldn't be that hard, I know it isn't, she thought. But no matter how hard she tried, her work seemed insurmountable.
One day, the children has just come home from school, and she was looking at the papers they had brought. "Honey, that is a wonderful drawing you did. It's a horse, isn't it? And you made him purple, how lovely." "Yes, Mommy, " said the little girl proudly. "Purple is my favorite color." "I know, honey," said her mother. "You do such a good job coloring. And what did YOU do, sweetheart?" she turned to her son. "I did numbers, Mommy," he said, and held the paper up upside down. "I didn't do them right." "Oh, that's okay, homey," his mother said, "possibly we can work on it together. See," she said, turning the paper around, "you got two right. That's good! Wait till Daddy comes home and sees how well you two have done, he'll be so pleased"
She helped them off with their jackets and put them on a chair. "Now we're going to have Family instance tonight," she said. "What shall we plan for Daddy's big entertainment?" "I want to do the puppet show," the little girl jumped up and down. "No, no," said the boy, "I want to play Karades." "Charades," corrected his mother. "We'll have to vote before Daddy gets here. Let me put them both down on pieces of paper and hid them behind my back. It's your turn to choose," she said to the little girl. The girl chose charades and was vastly disappointed. Her mother comforted her, and got out an apple for each of them.
"You've done so well today at school. Did you learn any new words?" "I learned a big word, Mommy," the boy said. He was always looking for a new word to tell his mom about. "What was it?" she asked. "Prositoot," said the boy, expecting praise. He had carefully memorized the word to bring it home. "Prostitute?" said his mom. "Yeah," said the boy,
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