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Christlike mothering: The mother's atonement

I had just swept the final collection into the pile. "Pretzels, captain crunch, popcorn, cheerios, chips ..." I spouted off to anyone listening. "Nope. I didn't eat any of these things," I continued, as I brushed the last of the pile into the dustpan.

The only person listening at the table said quietly, "It's the mother's atonement."

I straightened up, "What?"

He spoke louder and clearer now between bites of breakfast, "It's the mother's atonement."

I stood silently with a pause hanging in the air.

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