Yesterday my daughter was standing up on a chair at our kitchen counter, as she often does, while I was busy making lists and figuring out what meals I could make for the month. We were having a snack, and we each had a glass of milk. Because whatever I have seems to be better in her little eyes, she decided pouring my milk into her cup would be a good idea. It didn't take long before I turned around and saw what had happened - milk dripping from the counter and puddling all over the floor.
At first glace, I was exasperated. "She should know better. What was she thinking? Didn't I tell her to leave it alone?" These were all running through my mind, of course at a very rapid pace. (It really is amazing how much your mind can process in one second).
And then I had a memory come to mind. Go back 10 years, more or less, to my friend Gemma's house, sitting in their kitchen, eating something delicious her mom had made. Maybe crepes? With Gemma's glass full of milk, my childish excitement got the best of me, grabbed her hand and splashed milk all over their floor, table, possibly the wall and most likely, Gemma too.
And what do I remember from that experience? Laughter. Lots and lots of laughter.
No anger. No frustration. No mean words.
And in a matter of seconds, I went from almost becoming the mean, angry mom to becoming the laugh-about-it; it's-OK mom. Because really, what's a couple milk-soaked towels when compared to a little girl's self-esteem?