I started writing about the sequence of events that took place tonight at bedtime. It wasn’t pretty, and I don’t have the heart to share it because I’d rather not remember it. I feel dishonest trying to share anything else tonight. My kids are so precious yet sometimes in the moment of frustration and anger, I yell at them as if that will change everything but it never does. And then later I worry that I’ve scarred them terribly. I know, how could I have possible yelled at these adorable kids?