Occasionally, my little girl astounds me.
This is one incident where I’m left deeply humbled.
There are tantrums, and there are tantrums. JJ was having one of the latter and I was at the end of my rope. I felt like screaming. Instead, I walked away, feeling helpless and exasperated. I looked at Vera, and thought she might be able to help her little brother, so I asked her to go and talk to him.
She went. She sat. She said some words. She gave him his water bottle and asked him to stop crying.
The words she spoke probably echoed some of mine, uttered over the past two years.
Her actions, like handing him his bottle, reminded me of my own.
But her heart, was different.
Where I had been harsh, she was gentle.
Where I had been frustrated, she was calm.
She told her little brother, “It’s okay, stop crying. Listen to mummy huh…” In a sweet, sing-song voice.
I was stooping beside her, facing him. Him in his orange calm-down chair. Him with the red face, the heaving shoulders, the loud sobs.
I could see, all of a sudden. The frustration with dealing with a temperamental child often cripples my ability to love, despite my best attempts to do so.
But Vera carries no such frustration. She is free from baggage. I simply asked her to help. And she did, in a way that she knows how.
My girl (who’s really an angel in disguise) humbles me. She teaches me how to love, better, purer, with each ordinary day.
She shows me how kind-hearted love ought to be.
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