Tonight, there was a disaster in which 5 freaking gazillion various-sized sequins were spilled onto the carpet. Not surprisingly, Peyton and Ella were putting minimal energy into the clean-up effort. Not wanting to waste the next half hour of my life picking craft bling out of the carpet, I told them that they had until the count of 10 to save as many sequins as possible before the vacuum got them. Besides, I hadn't vacuumed in an entire day so there was already a variety of cereal bits on the floor. I started counting as I got out the vacuum. "Hurry, Hurry, Save Them!" I honestly thought this would be a fun solution. My kids usually respond well to this sort of tactic.
I was very, very, wrong. As I got close to the end of the count, Peyton started sobbing, "I want to pick up all the sequins! I don't want to throw any away!"
And because I'm THAT parent, "Honey, when you run out of sequins, I'll buy you some more."
Still sobbing, "No, I never want to throw them away. I never want them to go in the garbage truck. They are my favorite thing in the whole house!" He collapses into my lap, "I just need love, Mommy. All I need is love."
I give him a big cuddly hug and because I'm teaching my child about the virtues of equality, I say, "Look, we picked up the big ones, those are the best ones anyway."
Wrong. Wrong. Wrong.
He's still crying, but it's bath time, and we need to move on. "I'll pick up a few more before I vacuum."
Part of me is thinking: Sequins? Seriously? Suck it up, kid. I really need to be more strict.
But a bigger part of me feels sorry for him. I've had irrational sadness before. I can relate to how he's feeling. Sometimes it's hard to be a kid.
Five minutes later, during bath time:
"Mommy, I love sequins. They are round and I love round things. They are like sugar plums. " I totally swear, I'm not making this up.
Five minutes later, I still haven't vacuumed and he's still in the bath.
He starts crying, "Right now, I'm thinking about you vacuuming. Even when I was playing, I was still thinking about it. I'm still a little sad."
And because I didn't want to pay for Post Traumatic Stress Disorder therapy for my son in 15 years, when he got out of the bath I helped him pick up the rest of the 5 freaking gazillion various-sized sequins.