Are You Happy Now, Mama?

In the considerable stress of packing and preparing for return to China, I was busy the other day.  Too busy for Connor.  He trailed me around the house, asking questions about broken light bulbs and, when I failed to answer quickly enough, prompting me with, "Is it, Mama?  Is it?  Is it?"

I was frazzled.  I was stressed.  I was hauling 50-lb trunks from one end of the house to the other, doing laundry, deciding what should stay and what should go, and tripping over my parents' dog.  I was in a generally grouchy mood.  Finally, after several short answers with increasing irritation, I turned to Connor and said, "Honey.  I am busy.  I cannot talk to you right now.  I have to get these things done.  I have too much to do."

Connor thought about that for a second, his big brown eyes sober.  He pursed his lips.  "Are you unhappy, Mama?"

"Yes.  I am a little unhappy right now.  I'm busy."

"Oh."

I turned back to packing.  Out of the corner of my eye, I see Connor plop down by the bed, grab the corner of the quilt, and pull it over his face.

"Where's Connor?" he sang out.  He popped out from under the blanket.  "Here I am!" he said, beaming.  "Are you happy now, Mama?"

Yes.  I was.