It was a trying day with my darling daughter yesterday. My mom tells me Trevor went through a similar phase at five years old, but it's hard to remember when he seems (mostly) so reasonable now at seven. Compounding her five-year-old-ness, Amy's also dealing with her middle-child "stuff." Running down the list of challenges for yesterday:
- she threw Trevor's Spiderman car and broke it
- tried to slam the basement door in his face so he couldn't come upstairs
- woke Gavin up from settling down to TWO of his naps yesterday, one of which he couldn't get back to sleep
- refused to eat her pasta at dinner. This is nothing new, but I made her favourite kind and picked all the veggies and shrimp out of it, only to have her declare, "Yuck. I am NOT eating this."
- broke a lame little string of beads I won at Blackjack in Vegas last year, but they were blue and therefore, Trevor's. This had the intended effect of making him cry.
So when she asked me at bedtime:
"Mommy, why do you love me?" I had to dig deep and put aside the challenges of the day. I hugged her and listed off all of her wonderful qualities. I mean, look at her. How could you not?
No comments:
Post a Comment