It was the Saturday before Mother’s Day. I was startled awake by my oldest standing over me with his arms behind his back.

“What are you doing?” I say, feeling very grumpy about the interruption to my precious sleep.

“I have your Mother’s Day gift!” He said excitedly.

“But Mother’s Day is tomorrow.” I replied a little sleepy but trying to be patient.

“I know, I couldn’t wait”.

I fumbled with the lamp and allowed my eyes time to adjust before reading the card. It was the homemade version that all parents love. On the front was a vase made out of construction paper with smaller strips of paper holding different colored paper flowers. I opened it to read a poem that he meticulously wrote with his best handwriting.

The poem was beautiful and I got a little teary eyed reading the words. I was relishing in this precious moment when he said,

“My teacher made me do it. She made all the kids do it.”

Oh well. I guess when it comes to kids, it’s not always the thought that counts.

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