Friday Photos and a Memory

Last Sunday was Daughters' Day once again. Oh the excitement!

 

Bedhead and a breakfast in bed of Dad's homemade croissanwiches and chocolate milk. What could be better?

We stuck with the homemade gift plan again, and each received their own art notebook (since they actively coveted Shayne's after Sons' Day) and a monogram peg for their assortment of bags and purses.

Speaking of daughters, and as a sort of follow-up to last week's post about Gracie's tantrums, I wanted to record this little story...on Monday evening, after a big day (first day of school!), Gracie had reached the end of her short rope by dinnertime. Really, anything could have set her off by that point, but as it was, a mix-up about who was sitting where at the table apparently deeply wounded her sensibilities and sent her stomping off for the accompanying fit.

Aye yi yi. Clearly her posters do not always do the trick.

We sort of rolled our eyes and proceeded with dinner as usual, doing our best to ignore the behavior and let her cry it all out in the privacy of her own room. After the time passed when I would have expected her to be done and rejoin us, though, still no Gracie. Just the wounded cries from her room. But instead of rolling my eyes this time, my mind flashed back to a memory of my five-year old self--one of the earliest memories I have.

One day, for whatever reason (probably my refusing to come when called), by the time I got to the table for lunch, all of the tuna fish sandwiches were gone. I was deeply offended. Did they not know that tuna fish was my favorite? (Though I don't think it actually was.) How could they not have saved one for me? And, NO, I could not eat any of the other kinds ready and waiting for me! I stomped off to my room for the accompanying fit. Several minutes went by, and just when I thought everyone had forgotten about me and my pitiful plight, my mom and my dad walked into my room with a plate full of tuna fish sandwiches. We laid on the bed together, eating the sandwiches and just talking, for what seemed like a very long time. I think this is such a strong early memory for me because of the way it made me feel at the time...so very special.

So, what could I do on Monday night after this flashback but pick up my plate and Gracie's plate and head to her room? We picnicked on her bedroom floor, just talking and talking, for what seemed like a very long time. I told her the story of my memory, and when I told her how it had made me feel very special, she replied, "You mean, just like me?" Yep, just like you.

I've mentioned this memory to my mom before, and she has no recollection of the moment (her memory is probably clouded by the new baby fog she was likely going through herself at the time), but I just wanted to say, thanks, Mom and Dad, for giving me this memory and a way, so many years later, to connect with my very own dramatic, independent five-year old girl who also needed a little extra attention. The very tight hug she gave me that night before bed gave me hope that it will be a memory passed on to another generation as well.