We had a slight snow/ice/something storm yesterday. When she went to bed, Gert saw a nice crystalline world glistening and, somewhere deep in her heart, she wished for a snow day.
When she woke up this morning the world was no more frozen than when she went to bed. School was not canceled. And, as the morning wore on it was revealed that Gert was secretly crushed.
I came up out of my office and saw her crying in the hall. "I don't want to go to school today," she said, "I wanted to stay home and play in the snow." I pointed out that the snow, or the crusty, injury-causing ice, would still be there when she got home. But that wasn't all.
"I don't want to have indoor recess," she said. She's afraid that, because of the set up of indoor recess, her teachers will just go off somewhere and forget the kids and she'll be alone. She has a deep fear of being alone (she gets that from me).
I assured her and told her to go get some socks on. But, even this was a bust. All she had left were itchy socks. She hates itchy socks. "Three pairs of socks, all itchy," she lamented.
Then Mommy was going through her bag and noticed a note from the teacher. "Don't forget pretzels and M&Ms!" Holy hell, what is she talking about? Whatever it was, we forgot. We had no idea. Gert, who is obsessed with Hanukkah (thankfully Mike is out of town or he'd be getting daily calls to explain the Jewish faith to Gert), thinks it has something to do with latkes. Only pretzels and chocolate have nothing to do with latkes.
Gert started to sob. "This is the worst day ever," she said.
But do not worry, we said. Mommy will take you to the store and we'll get a bag of pretzels and M&Ms and she'll drive you to school. No big deal!
It was too late. The die was cast and Gert forlornly put on her coat, hugged me and went to the car with mom. She waved to me as they pulled away, one tear streaming down her cheek.
The hard thing about parenting is when you can't fix it for the kids. When you can't find the right thing to say to put their fears to rest, or help guide them through their trouble. Sometimes it's just impossible. And in Gert's case, it was impossible today. No snow day, itchy socks, indoor recess and forgetting our contribution to a school project all combined to ruin her day before it started. We tried, Mommy and I, but we couldn't convince her that it would get better. Now I begin the long march of the day, waiting for the time to pick her up at the bus to see how it went. To see if, perhaps, she was able to pull her mood out of the fire.
She's right. Today is the worst day ever.
Oh my gosh, Gary. You are so in for years and years of not being able to fix it. Mine's 16, and I'm still not able to fix it all. But at least when they have a cell phone, you can send a secret text message to school to find out how it's going. Makes the day a little shorter anyway.
ReplyDeleteDarnit, that made me teary-eyed.
ReplyDeleteKev had "one of those" mornings too: I dared to bring a PB&J sandwich for the ride to school just in case he changed his mind about breakfast (the nerve of me!), then he couldn't go through the side door at school because it was locked, so he would have to walk alllll the way around, and then I asked him to bring his coat, which would mean he'd have THREE things to carry! HORRORS!
He's the saddest (or most honked off) kid in grade number two.
Hit sent too soon. I don't mean to compare Gert's morning with Kev's the way I made it sound. Kev's morning was due to him being snarky and cranky (at least that's how he appeared when he snarled at me, slammed the car door, and literally stomped his way toward the school doors). Gert's morning was just plain unhappy. And she will appreciate your cooldadness attempts to help her feel better.
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