I didn't want our day to start off that way.
I don't like to see you crying at the kitchen table and I hate being frustrated and angry over trivial things.
You did an excellent job getting dressed, and making your bed. You were even doing a good job munching on your bagel and finishing your orange juice.
And I know you want hair like Rapunzel - but to have her hair you have to have thicker skin. You have to understand that with long hair, comes tangles and with you, tangles means tears.
This morning the tangles created huge, cascading tears and angry words. You howled and hit and stomped. And then I got angry and I cried. And maybe I stomped too. Just like that our morning was ruined.
After you climbed on my lap and we snuggled a bit, we talked through it. I apologized for getting upset and raising my voice. You apologized for screaming and hitting...and then you whimpered Mama, please don't cut my hair. Please don't make it shorted up.
After dropping you off at school, and having a few minutes of silence to myself, I started making list of the things you say, with your serious little voice, that make my heart smile. Things that I want to remember years from now, when you are a teenager, and not saying anything to me.
These are some of my favorites:
Dad, I'm confused. No. I mean I'm all puzzled up.
Saying spagaragus instead of asparagus.
Have fun storming the kingdom!
Can I have a sleepover with Nicholas, Dad? No, not now! When I am like 14 or 21.
Saying poot frunch instead of fruit punch.
Instead of saying went you love to say go-ed.
Look Mom! It's gone! It disreppeared!!
Lately, when your stomach hurts you tell me your wrist hurts, I believe you mean to say waist.
A few weeks ago you told Hilary that rolls are fancy greasy bread.
And, of course, your tearful plea made the list today...