Something unpleasant happened this morning when I went to wake the youngest up for school.
I’m not going to go into details, not here. She didn’t want to get up. I pushed, little one pushed back…and she said some pretty hurtful things. The child brain in me wanted to respond in anger, but I didn’t. I held back, because I know she’s hurt and lashing out. She ended up leaving in a better mood, but I still was in a sour mood the rest of the day.
This afternoon, she runs in and heads straight to the kitchen to make me and her chocolate cake in a mug. Her “specialty” right now (she’s new to cooking).
But I don’t think that’s it. Master came in and got me, that’s how I knew she was making us cake. He didn’t say much just, “I think [little one] is trying to apologize for snapping at you. She’s making you a treat upstairs.”
She seems to have forgotten this morning entirely. She’s her usual, bright, cheery self. She’s very proud of discovering this recipe and that she can do it on her own (with just a little bit of help!). I let it go, because 1) she’s a kid and 2) I say, “Acts of service is really your love language, isn’t it”? She nods and digs into her cake.
She knows mine are different than hers, but I list mine again, anyway. We talk about other people’s love languages. Teachable moment. We’ll have other talks, later, I’m sure. But for tonight, the important thing was to let her reconnect and feel better about herself.
Today she just needed to hear,