Mike swears he isn’t planting the dimes. He swears upside down and sideways that he has nothing to do with them.
I got into a fight with my 13 year old today. He then said he hated living with me, that all I do was yell.
I stopped to think about that for a minute. And then I thought about it some more. And we had a conversation, Andrew and I.
I may have been yelling more. I don’t know. I know I’ve been more stressed. Under more pressure.
So after I had another conversation with Andrew about his attitude and my yelling, I walked towards the downstairs.
Sitting on a ledge, where I had put a couple of knick-nacks, not *really* accessible to anyone, in an awkward spot that would have required someone to lean out dangerously over the stairs, was a dime, perfectly centred between two of the knick-nacks.
I know that the dime is from Mark. I know that it’s a message from him. I’m not sure WHAT the message is, but I know that it is a message.
I’m hoping that the message is something along the lines of “You’re doing good. Keep it up. I’m here, watching over you.”