Such was the case yesterday evening, after David and I had a frank discussion about his needing to be responsible for bringing ALL of his homework home with him. He has a history test coming up on Friday, and his study terms were apparently left behind in his desk at school.
I sent him upstairs to get a shower and get in his jammies. I toiled away in the kitchen for a few minutes, and then was greeted by my sobbing little boy, who threw himself into my arms.
Now, I NEVER mind having my kids run up for random and huge hugs. Hugs are my specialty, and I love to dole them out with (appropriate) abandon. But when it's accompanied by declarations of such doom and gloom, I begin to worry.
So, I took Little Man by the hand, and said, "okay, let's have a chat," and went over to the couch.
"Explain to me why you hate you life," I began.
"Well," he said, between gasps for air, "the kids in my class are so noisy. And Walker is gone. And Spike is gone. And Honey [the cat we had for 9 months] is gone." And he burrowed his head back into my arms with dramatic flair.
Now, had I shown such despair with my mom when I was his age, I would have been promptly met with a resounding lecture on self-pity, lack of appreciation, and selfishness. This was not the lecture I wanted to give to David, nor one he wanted to hear.
So I took a different tactic. "I know, sweetie. I know that you miss Walker and Spike and Honey. I know. We all miss them so much. But can you spend a few minutes thinking about all that is good with your life?"
By this time, Elizabeth came downstairs and surveyed the scene with a genuine look of worry on her sweet face. She quietly sat down next to her big brother on the couch.
"Um ... we still have Lager," David began.
"Right!" I said. "And you're very healthy, and you have a lot of friends."
I tried to guide him toward a bit more positive thinking and positive imagery. He mentioned that he's still not pleased that Glen works up north, and that he misses his daddy.
It was about that time that Elizabeth put her arm around David.
"David," she said, "I love you."
David put his arm around his little sister.
"And you have a little sister who adores you and thinks the world of you," I added.
Elizabeth nodded, and then went in for the kill: she put her head on David's lap.
He melted into a hug with his baby sister.
Priceless.
