My Mother taught me patience. More precisely, she taught me that I have no patience. Zero. Zip. Nada. None.
Before I tried (in an utter vain and hopeless effort) to talk her into something a couple of days ago, I thought I had patience. She exhausted it in minutes.
The people out there with children are snickering knowingly. Yeah, yeah, yeah. My kids came practically grown and able to already have conversation.
We’re nothing alike, of course.
I understand, theoretically and from a comedic standpoint, how quickly one’s Mother is supposed to be able to reduce one to a quivering and tangled mass of frustration, but I had no idea that … that… woman!… had so perfected the art in my absence.
Where is the nearest ice floe?
I hope there’s room on it for two.
Susan Scot Fry
Update… My Mom also taught me humility when I realized how easily I can loose patience Big Time with someone who really can’t help themselves anymore. It’s a lesson I ignore as often as possible.
Thanks for all the comments. They made my day.