Ignoring conventional packing techniques, I spent my morning going to areas where I “keep things” and throwing those things into bags until the bags were full. That’s how I knew I was done packing. Mason seemed to be underfoot every step of the way; rollerskating in the kitchen, doing handstands in the living room, and spinning circles in the hallway.

While Morgan has both feet firmly planted in the terrible twos, Mason has graduated to the age of back talking. “Why do I have to do that? Why doesn’t Morgan have to do that? How come I can’t have that? Mommy let’s me do that.” It is a constant, grating annoyance. I now understand where the phrase “because I said so,” comes from, and why parents say it so often.

I ended up with five bags this trip: my laptop, a briefcase, my suitcase, my CPAP, and a small plastic sack with a few books, magazines and DVDs in it. As Mason cartwheeled around the house I carried the first two bags out to the truck and came back for the last load. I grabbed the suitcase and my CPAP and asked Mason to carry the plastic sack out to the truck.

“But why do *I* always have to carry stuff?” he whined.

And I let him have it. All my frustrations exploded out of me and hit him squarely. I grabbed the bag from his hands and continued to vent all the way out to the truck. “NO, you don’t have to carry ANYTHING,” I shouted. I didn’t stop there. “I’m SO SORRY to ask you to carry a bag for me,” I continued, as Mason shuffled along behind me. I threw my bags angrily into the truck and noticed Mason wasn’t behind me any longer.

He was standing in the driveway. Crying. Alone.

I walked over to him and got down on my knees. He hugged me and I too began crying. We tried to apologize to each other but we were both crying so hard no words would come out. Eventually I stood. Mason reached his hand up and held on to mine. We walked, hand in hand, over to his side of the truck. After shutting the door, I walked around to the rear of the truck where he couldn’t see me, and I collapsed. I buried my head in shame in my hands. What have I done. What have I done.

After a moment alone I composed myself and got in the truck. Mason said he was sorry about the sack and I said I was sorry for yelling about it. We went through McDonald’s and got some breakfast and took the long way to work.

I hope Mason is able to forget about this morning. I know I never will.