Last week, while walking my darlings to the car after picking them up from school, I accidentally (remember that word...accidentally) bumped Ashlyn.
This happens. It's bound to. On one hand I have a leader (that would be Caedance), yanking away with an impatient, "C'mon Mom! Let's GO"; ready to put as much distance as possible between her and "That Place". On the other hand, walks The Thinker (Ms. Ashlyn), dawdling about with lingering thoughts of the pleasures and sorrows that can occur in 2 1/2 hours. Mind wandering. Thoughts meandering.
Bump. (That would be my hip).
And her foot slipped into the mud puddle that has been conveniently growing on the side of the sidewalk. Hello, Mr. Mud. How you doing? Meet Ashlyn's foot.
A big deal? Nope. Not at all. No falling. No mud bath. Just a muddy shoe.
But such drama. Oh. Such. Drama.
"MAMA! You pushed me into the mud! Oh! Why? WHY?! Into the mud, where it's dirty. It's so dirty, Mama! This is not a good day at all. Ruined. Oh, Mama."
I stand corrected. It was a big deal.
I apologized. (Remember that magic word, "Accidentally"? It didn't mean much to her.)
She was cleaned up. (Rather, the shoe was cleaned up). The day went on. And the next. And the next. So on and so forth.
This week, the saga continues. As we walked the path away from Franklin Elementary, Caedance fleeing the scene of apparent crimes unknown, and Ashlyn tra-la-la-ing away, we passed The Mud Puddle. "Mama? Do you remember when you pushed me into the mud? Right there? THAT mud puddle? You pushed me. You sure did. I remember it."
Hmmmmmm. I see you do. With some embellishments added, I see.
So. There it is.