A friend shared her three-year-old with us for this afternoon. Oh those little tiny fingers, that small voice, and those itty-bitty teeth in that unrestrained smile. I remember when Anne was that size. And the hilarity of our now 11 year-old trying to expand our little friend's vocabulary with words like "pentagonal" required great restraint from laughter on my part.
Watching today's Anne, juxtaposed to the memories brought back by our little friend, forced into stark relief memories of my mommy-mind-set eight of years ago. "Edgy" describes it pretty accurately. At the time I also taught part time in the evenings at a local community college. That sanity break barely met my social needs, and I appreciated it mightily. Raising small children requires so much of caregivers.
We fed our little friend typical pre-schooler fare: dry cereal, fruit, water, and hot chocolate (it's pretty cold these days). She played, danced, sang, and listened to stories. Kids learn to lie pretty early, and she tried so hard to be polite. Her hesitant smile at the hot chocolate gave her away. Of course it tasted different; made from chocolate almond milk it bore little resemblance to the "real thing".
She also showed the kind of shrewd judgement and clear logical thinking that, when it came from my daughter eight years ago, sent me over the edge. You see: After making tonight's mac & cheese, and wondering if our new little friend would notice that I'd used coconut milk rather than the regular variety, I offered her a bite. It turned out that she loved it. In fact, she wanted more. Dinner preparations, however, needed another ten minutes. And she continued to press: "I want some more 'yummie in my tummy!'" To which I kindly redirected her to the remaining dry cereal and orange slices on her plate from snack, until dinner, "soon." Looking directly at me, she picked up her plate and "accidentally" dumped half the cereal on the floor. Closer to getting rid of the rest of her snack, clearly!
Anne served time in "time-out" for far less serious or intentional infractions. Sometimes accompanied by a frustrated response from me, and at my better moments simply escorted by even emotion, she dutifully took her consequences. My response earlier this evening brings relief and smiling. Our little friend's overt attempt forced me to stifle a large guffaw. After a moment of composing myself, I simply noted that the spilled cereal would also need to be removed to the trash before dinner. Her hopes dashed, my priorities and dignity all entirely intact.
And then I got to thinking about positivity. Much as I wish to attribute tonight's presence of mind to my recent endeavors at thinking and acting in positive ways, so much of my restraint came from perspective. Time gives perspective, and another person's child lends itself to patience. It felt easier to take Anne's shenanigans personally. This little friend of ours today simply needed to test the waters. Rather than frustration, I felt reassured at her logical thinking skills, which brings me back to positive thinking.
Sometimes, in order to find the positive in a questionable situation, I need time. "Dire situations" resolve themselves, eventually. And invariably, whatever hullabaloo they caused in the process creates little in the way of actual help. "Time heals all wounds". Why fetter ourselves with superfluous angst in the process? And when I hurt in the past, hurling myself into a whirlwind of pain and reaction came all to easily. Maybe age gives me more patience. Or, and I rather suspect this as the root of my new-found composure, I just want to feel good. And when that "good" feeling eludes me, I simply feel willing to wait.
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