Last night (or, rather, this morning) my daughter woke up screaming for me with a terrified and pathetic wail. I rushed into her room, and picked her up. She continued to sob, and wrapped her arms around my neck and her legs around my waist. I shushed her, told her “Mommy’s here, you’re okay” and carried her back to my bed with me. I tucked her under my arm, and felt her relax as she pressed her little body into mine. I stroked her hair until she finally fell asleep.
If only parenting was always this easy.
By and large, my kids do okay. My son is loving school, and has good friends. But there are the days when he comes crying because his best friend was mean to him, or he felt left out by the pack of boys in the neighborhood, or because his teacher was unfair.