This evening, my daughter had some play time with her very best friend.
The girls play several times a week, and have done so for the past year. They share family dinners, dance parties, sweet toddler kisses, and a language that is their own.
They are so in love.
Yet tonight, they were two. Terribly two. My daughter marched into her little friend’s house and promptly tried to take every toy from her, screaming “Mine!”. And then threw tantrums. My girl was ornery. She was impolite. And once, when her friend grabbed a toy that my daughter had been eying, my kid hit. She hit her best friend.
And I was mortified, horrified, frustrated and sad. But, most of all, I was confused.
Where did she learn to hit?
We certainly don’t hit in our house, and as her teacher I knew that it was not a behavior she was witnessing in school.
My instinct was to protect my daughter’s little friend,
and to admonish my daughter properly.
And then, of course, to feel guilty.
What could I be doing differently?
What have I done wrong?
But, fortunately, a few bounces on the trampoline, a musical blanket ride and several bites of chicken nuggets later, the girls were back to being the tender, caring besties we have come to know and cherish.
But, her behavior continued to haunt me.
And as we walked home, I made sure to snuggle my daughter in my arms, and to show her love and affection; It is my job, after all, to model kindness, love and, most of all, understanding.
And once we were back inside our house, my daughter asked for me to hold her in my arms, and she sang to me.
Looking into my eyes, she sang “Mommy loves the baby”,
the song I sing to her each night as I walk her to her crib and place her down for sleep.
This song signifies our bond; it means love.
So despite all of the stress of the afternoon, the tears and the temper,
and the little things that I may be doing wrong along the way,
at least I know I have done one thing
one very small
yet very meaningful
thing right.