No Weapon Formed (Boaz Brown) Read Free Page B

rolled over in bed like “go ahead.” I’d thrown
in a few sound effects, but my mind never veered into the passion lane.
    “It’s not that simple for me,
Stelson.”
    “We’ve never had this problem
before,” he recalled.
    “We’ve never had two
kids—”
    Zoe’s cries from her swing
signaled the end of our morning routine, finished or not. “We gotta go.”
    Seth was crouched on the
floor in his socked feet with one shoe on his foot, the other on the couch
where his behind should have been.
    I checked my phone. We were
now officially twelve minutes behind schedule.
    Before he could protest, I
hoisted Seth onto the couch and shoved the other shoe on his foot.
    “No!”
    “Seth, honey, we’re late.”
    He covered his shoe laces
with both hands. He begged, “Mommy, I can do it.”
    “I’m sorry. Maybe tomorrow,”
I said, grabbing one set of laces and quickly tying them.
    “But Sister Heller said I can
do all things through Christ which strengthens me, Fer-ip-i-gans four and
fifteen,” he cited.
    “You’re close. It’s Philippians four and thirteen ,” I corrected him, “and Jesus will help you tie your shoes
faster if you practice more, in the future.”
    Because he knew better than
to resist me physically, he threw his head back against the couch and voiced
his objection through cries.
    Stelson came dashing into the
living room. “What’s wrong?”
    Seth answered for us, “Mommy’s
tying my shoes, but I wanted to tie them.”
    I finished the second shoe
and gave Seth directions to go get his backpack from his bedroom. He obeyed,
albeit with tear-filled eyes.
    Stelson parked his hands at
his waist and whispered, “Why wouldn’t you let him tie his shoes?”
    Zoe’s continued cries divided
my attention. I answered Stelson as I pulled her from the swing. “Because it’s
taking him too long and we’re in a hurry.”
    “It’s important for him to be
able to do things for himself,” my husband lectured. “What’s going to happen to
him when you’re not around, Shondra? You want him to be the type of kid who can’t
do anything without Momma?”
    “He’s four !”
    Stelson slapped his hand into
his palm. “He’s a boy who will one day be a man. I don’t expect you to
understand this, but you have got to let him try to do things on his own. Maybe
you could get him up a little earlier.”
    I motioned for Stelson to
hand me the baby’s diaper bag from the kitchen. “Um, no. If I wake him up
earlier, that means I have to get up earlier. Not gonna happen.”
    “Then I’ll take him to
school,” Stelson suggested.
    “When? On the one or two variable
days a week when you don’t have to be across town by six o’clock? I don’t think
so. It’s not worth confusing the routine. We gotta go.”
    I left Stelson standing in
bewilderment, thinking to myself: He just doesn ’ t get it.

Chapter 3
     
    I dropped the kids off at
daycare without incident, staggered back to the car and sped out of the parking
lot with every intent to clip off as much lost time as possible. My Honda was
getting to be as old as Methuselah, but she could get up and go when necessary.
    I called my best friend,
Peaches, on my way in to work. She lived in Philadelphia, which put her an hour
ahead of me, so I knew her morning was well underway.
    “Hey, girl.”
    “Hey. You’re just now heading
in to work?” she questioned.
    “Don’t start. I’ve had a
crazy morning already. Stelson snoring, baby crying, and I stubbed the mess out
of my toe. My foot is so jacked,” I vented.
    “And you’re headed to the
doctor’s office, right?” she asked in her mothering tone. I suppose as the mom
of four children, she had mastered the art of indirectly telling people what
they ought to do.
    “No. I’m going to work. If it
gets worse, I’ll go to a twenty-four-hour clinic when I get off so they can
confirm that it’s broken—after Stelson gets home from work.”
    “Girl, you crazy,” she
dismissed my perfectly sane