I am frustrated with my frustration.  I am impatient with my own impatience. Why do I keep letting these little people get to me? We may all look put-together as we herd our scrubbed and somewhat-matching little duckies into church on Sunday morning, but I have a feeling we all say the same things come mid-Monday morning. Today we had a frustrating morning of attempting school while trying to keep the baby from climbing from the chairs to the...