It never ceases to amaze me what my kids cry about. When they are actually hurting, I actually feel. And I could actually cry with them. If I had any tears left.
But 99% of the time my kids cry, it’s for none reason. This is something my kids love to say. She just hit me for none reason. He ate my gum for none reason. He peed on the floor for none reason.
It’s for no reason, you morons.
But I don’t ever correct them because I’m an awesome mom. And I don’t want to hurt their precious little feelings. Because that would probably make them cry even more. For even none-er reason.
Morning is always a time of day filled with emotion. Mostly tears. With a pinch of colorful language.
The other day as I was in the bathroom putting my face on, my daughter starting screaming. Normally I ignore this or just turn on the blow dryer to drown her out. But this was blood curdling screaming. There was definitely something wrong.
My first thought was her appendix must have exploded. Right there in her stomach. Right there in my living room. That’s how intense the tears were. But it turns out she just couldn’t get her foot in her shoe.
Not to be outdone by her sister, my other daughter cried for equally none reason. I walk in the kitchen carrying groceries. She’s sitting at the table having a snack. She says hello and carries on about her business.
I start to put the groceries away. (Not quite sure where Beau was.) All of the sudden she starts to cry. Big fat tears.
I don’t even turn around. I just ask her what in the hell she could possibly be crying about. It’s just her and I in the kitchen.
She goes on and on about how her brother and his friend told her she couldn’t make a basket. Her brother is not home. No one is playing basketball.
She’s been saving this one up for a while. Hours? Days? Weeks? There’s no telling.
She was just waiting for a captive audience. But I wasn’t it. I said, “Who cares? You can make a basket. So stop crying. Your tears are getting in the Cheez-Its box. And if you make my Cheez-Its soggy I’ll give you something to really cry about.” But I said it with a smile.
Another morning another child walks up to me and screams, “what is this?” She’s waving a ziplock sandwich baggie in my face. I say, “Well darling that’s your lunch. That I made with love.” She responds through tears, “But why is there crust on it?” As she throws her arms in the air and said sandwich goes flying.
I told her where she could stick that crust. But I said it with a smile.