I'm sorry for bleeding, peeing, urping or otherwise soiling your clothes on your way to church.
I'm sorry for scraping my arm along craft store displays, scattering buttons across the floor.
I'm sorry for going limp when you were carrying me, Emily, your purse and two bags of groceries.
I'm sorry for screaming so loudly when you put on my shoes that you feared someone would call DCS.
We've had one of those days, the kind when I feel the need to apologize to my mom for being a child.
Even more so, I feel the need to apologize to God. The other day Gwennan pitched a full-on, out-of-her-mind fit when I took a muffin out of her hand so I could put on her jacket. At first her total distrust of me hurt my feelings. I've done nothing to deserve such scrutiny. A few minutes later, it occurred to me that Baby G is just doing what comes naturally. I do the same thing but to God, which is so much worse. I yell at Him for the way He's taking care of me when He is doing so perfectly. Parenting is so humbling.