After a terrible and demoralising day at work, I sat down with DH and my little angel for dinner. Tacos. They are her favourite as she can make them up herself; pre-schoolers and independence are an on/ off commodity that can change on a whim, so we embrace it when it works for us. But I digress, Em was given a melamine plate that I had decorated in grade four. She loves it as it has a rainbow on it, and she currently loves painting rainbows all the while singing about how, and I quote, "I can sing a rainbow, sing a rainbow, sing a rainbow too."
Like any person who has had an energy draining day at work, filled with blockers and naysayers and assumption makers, I sat eating my dinner, contemplating how I could debrief with my family without everything turning into a whinge-fest. So there I sat, in a contemplative stare, when I noticed the plate. Memories of grade four, being raced by my mum to my little sister's kinder program to create a plate template as my mum didn't want me to 'miss out', came flooding back. That plate always annoyed me. I was so stressed at the time trying to think of something 'good' to put on the silly thing, that I totally panicked when I realised I was running out of time. I decided to 'just do a rainbow'. Even then it annoyed me as 'so obvious for a girl to do', and to be honest, I wasn't even a 'rainbow type girl' (is that a term?) that I had feelings of betrayal for my own self at the time. I am sure I have put a few adult words into what was, essentially, an emotional experience for a 9 year old, but you get the gist (I hope).
And here is where I get to reason # 450,000 for having a child. While I sat there, stewing about my day, letting feelings of regret and annoyance from 1984 swamp my already tainted feelings, I blurted out that I really don't like that plate. Three and a half year olds don't let you drop a bombshell like that and not explain it, so I was asked the now obligatory, "why?" I rambled on and on with my little story, about how I felt rushed, and disappointed with the end result – all very 'woe is me'. Cue compassionate voice of an angel:
"It doesn't matter mummy, I like it."
Now I don't cry; it is a rare occurrence, but this made me tingle and tears of joy filled my eyes.
Reason # 450,001 would have to be the proud smile from her when I told her that she fixed the day for me. It takes a strong person to be able to change a whole day, and that three and a half year old is one of the strongest people I know.