Hurt Feelings

Before I was a mom, I used to play with other people's kids a lot. Three-year-olds were my favorite, followed closely by those little ones with two freshly erupted bottom teeth.

I would play games with them and test their reactions, read to them, laugh with them, try to teach them things.

All in small doses, y'know?

Fast forward to last night. There were were eating dinner. Playette had consumed what she decided was enough to declare herself "ahhhhh done!" but instead of saying so, she swatted the fork I held out to her out of my hand and across the table where it fell in front of BD's plate.

BD explained to her that her behavior was unacceptable and reminded her that she should use her words/signs to express herself instead. He asked her to apologize to me.

She stared at him. She pouted. For a really long time. So long that it made me uncomfortable and right about then is when I decided it was time to cry.

Not in the way that I would pretend to cry with other people's children, fully expecting them to quickly offer a remedy to their wrong.

No, this time I cried because I thought, "She doesn't get it. The synapses aren't firing. We are expecting too much of her. This is always going to happen. Forever."

It wasn't a loud cry or an ugly cry or a cry for the benefit of anyone else at the table.

It was just for a moment and it was just for me.

Playette sat there and looked at me for a while longer.

And then she took her left hand...

brought her four fingers in towards her palm...

with her thumb up...

placed her hand on her chest...

and rotated it clockwise.

She apologized.