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He said, “Please excuse me too.’ We went on our way saying good-bye.
Later that day, cooking the evening meal, my son stood beside me very still.
As I turned, I nearly knocked him down. “Move out of the way,” I said with a frown.
He walked away, his little heart broken. I didn’t realize how harshly I’d spoken.
I looked on the kitchen floor, and found some flowers there by the door.
My heart said – Those are the flowers he brought for you.
He picked them himself: pink, yellow and blue.
He stood very quietly not to spoil the surprise, and you never saw the tears that filled his little eyes.
By this time, I felt very small, and now my tears began to fall.
I quietly went and knelt by his bed, “Wake up, little one, wake up,” I said.
“Are these the flowers you picked for me?”
He smiled, “I found ’em, out by the tree.
I picked ’em because they’re pretty like you. I knew you’d like ’em, especially the blue.”
I said, “Son, I’m very sorry for the way I acted today; I shouldn’t have yelled at you that way.”
He said, “Oh, Mom, that’s okay. I love you anyway.”
I said, “Son, I love you too, and I do like the flowers, especially the blue.”