I'm thankful for days like this, when God gives me a glimpse of progress in my children:
For whatever reason, haircuts used to be a MAJOR ordeal with Maximus. He would go into a total panic every time. He would start yelling and thrashing and then would get himself so worked up that he would gag and throw up. We went through about two years of this, and every time, I would walk away with my head hung, utterly embarrassed and frustrated.
Over the last year, he's done a little better each time. Then yesterday, it happened: an entire haircut without so much as a whimper. He told me in the car on the way to see Ariane: "Mom, I just realized that haircuts don't hurt. I still don't like them, but they don't hurt."
Once we were at the salon, he got up in the chair and looked straight into the mirror. He set his jaw and stared at the same spot on the mirror the whole time. He looked determined.
And maybe it's silly to be proud of him for overcoming something that never should have been an issue in the first place, but I am proud of him. And I'm thankful for a much-needed reminder that today's battle might just be tomorrow's non-issues. A message my soul really, really needed to hear.