…where a brave and beautiful bunch gather every week to find out what comes out when we all spend five minutes writing on the same topic and then sharing ‘em over here.

joy

Dear Quail,

I need to say I’m sorry to you baby girl. I had a brief lapse in faith, and I started to doubt what I know of you.  Lately when I look at you, I haven’t been able to see your heart first. Instead; in front of that has been your little hands and the damage they have done to those around you. I know it is hard to be three. It is even harder, when you haven’t been able to make your voice fluid enough to tell others how hard it is to be three. When I looked, I didn’t see the you I’ve come to know, the kind heart that is full of wonder and concern for those around you.

You see, in the past few weeks I’ve been getting calls of your unkindness. Reports that you have pulled hair, struck out, scratched and taken down other little children. I was surprised to hear this. I was so caught off guard that in those moments, I forgot who you really are, and I forgot to ask why. What had happened before you struck out. When I looked at you, I just saw an angry little girl, with dirt on her dress and sand in her hair  hair who wasn’t getting her way and was striking out.

And then,  I asked what had happened before you got angry. I heard how one little girl wouldn’t give back the toy you had been playing with. Another ignored your hug. Then one wasn’t doing what was asked of her by the teacher and you decided to intervene and “mother” the situation yourself. Because it matters to you to do what is asked. To comfort those that are upset. To follow the golden rule before the law of the jungle.

I know children have to work some of this out. But the real reason that I am apologizing is for the other week. The story that broke the storyteller’s back. I had a report that you had pulled the hair of a large 4 year old and taken her down. Once again, I forgot to ask why. When we got home, I gave you a stern talking to and put you in a very long time-out. I started to question if this was more than the “terrible threes” or you modeling younger behavior.

Then I asked why.

 Turns out you had wanted to play with the other children. You had come up to a sandbox bustling with little ones and hoped to join in the fun. This 4 year old told you that you couldn’t come in to play with them. I can almost see the fraction of an instant of sadness that would have crossed that bird-perch of a bottom lip of yours before you decided to set her straight. She looked at you. But she didn’t see you. Your response was unkind. You pulled her hair, pinned her down and then crawled on top of her. Dear Quail- that may not have been the best way to get yourself invited in to play. We will work on gentler ways to get your voice heard. But, I want you to know that I am sorry. I never want to silence you from defending yourself. I never want you to feel that we your family, don’t see you when we look at you. I never want you to worry that we won’t try to understand what you are telling us, what you need us to see, to know, to hear. We will not forget your loving heart.

Next time, we will remember to ask why. We won’t assume your disability renders you unable to understand. We know you are so very capable and that you do understand what you see, what you hear, what goes on around you. We see you.  But next time, pretty please, maybe next time, you ask the teacher for some help, rather than taking on the big kids yourself?

Love, Momma

If your eyes are blinded with your worries, you cannot see the beauty of the sunset. – Jiddu Krishnamurti Quotes.