[Prologue: E woke up delightful, but when it was time to get ready for soccer, she became increasingly impossible. I tried very hard to hold on to my grip (sorely tested in the last 24 hours), but when I sent her to get the hairbrush and found her reading in her room, I lost it--or, as another soccer mom put it, I went Alec Baldwin on her. Which resulted in torrents of tears (angry, embarrassed, and penitent, as I pointed out to her, once I regained my equilibrium), mutual apologies, and compliance, but also recurrent tears all the way to soccer. As we headed for the team, we passed another girl and her mother in earnest conversation on the edge of the field.]
Other mother: You don't have to do anything you don't want to do.
Me: You are going out on that field.
[Epilogue: I walked E to her coach and the other players in the middle of the field. She ran her first lap in tears. Within 15 minutes, she was playing happily. By the end of soccer, she was ecstatic. The other girl eventually ended up happily on the field too. But it took a while.]
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1 comment:
If we didn't make Noah do stuff, he would never do stuff.
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