Praise

I'm driving back home from The Toddler's gymnastics class with both kids. The Toddler is saying "Mommy, Mommy, Mommy, can I watch my DVD at hoooooooome?"

#2 is crying because when we walked into gymnastics to drop The Toddler off, the maelstrom of children running around (never mind the "No Running in the Lobby" signs) and intermittently screaming (why, oh WHY do kids feel the need to do this? Oh wait, I feel the need to do that sometimes) has woken her out of her post-milk sleep, and she's been unable to fall back asleep.

I'm trying, fitfully, to listen to NPR and Tom Ashbrook discussing when/if HRC should back out of the race. All the time contemplating the mind-crushing tedium (see crayon conversation below) that is my life.

I pull up to a red light and stop. And hear from the back seat:

"Good Stopping, Mommy!"

I'd like to say that it made it all better -- it didn't -- but it did make me smile and feel good. Nothing like a little praise, genuinely given, to knock you out of your downward spiral. That and a mocha latte, a sunny day, and a good night's sleep.

**********

"Mommy? I need some crayons."

"You have lots of crayons in your bucket."

"But I need them to draw!"

"C. You have a bucket FULL of crayons. Go get them."

"Please? I need some crayons to draw."

"Listen. To. Me. Get your plastic bucket of crayons. You have plenty in there to draw with."

feet padding over to playroom. bucket of crayons rattling. feet padding back to me.

Smiling, hopeful face turned up to me: "Open this please?"

bucket opened, feet padding back to playroom. Ahh. peace.


10 minutes later, I realize I need to go make sure she's drawing on paper, something I can no longer count on after the birth of #2 and the Sharpie Incident of 2008.