Or perhaps I should say "St. Monica and hope for us parents". I seethe at times when the kids seem impossibly distracted when we pray at bedtime. Earlier, Patrick (6) was giggling and laughing himself silly even before we finished.
Sigh. St. Monica, please lend just an ounce of your patience. Actually I was doing fine up to that time. On my way home, I was making up a song that went sort of like this:
Dearest Lord, teach me to be patient. For you are so patient with me. Lord, why do you love me so? How can you love me, wretched as I am?
And from the moment I stepped into the house and up until bedtime prayers, I was patient. We had a laughter-filled dinner. And then I read Francis his story. And I read Patrick his story after he read his reader (homework). And then I fell asleep while Trix read Justin his story. I guess my temper is at its worst when sleepy. And the boys goofed off some. So I was grumpy during bedtime prayers. Silly, silly me!