Bad Day

Toddler Alien had a bad day. Instead of coming home sunny, chatty and rearing to zoom around the house chasing a ball in a fit of giggles, he was irritable, angry and cried almost non-stop. He cried because we wouldn't lift him into his high chair. He cried because he didn't want to wait for dinner. He cried because we wouldn't give him more cheese. He was rude to J and cried when I reprimanded him.

So upstairs he went after dinner, an hour earlier than usual, to get ready for bed. He cried over being changed. He cried because I put him in pajama pants instead of shorts. He cried because he I picked out the books. Believing that his fidgeting was due to extreme tiredness, I put him down in his crib, which made him cry some more.

I finally picked him back up and lay down on the bed with him. With his milk in one hand and his teddy bear in the other, he galumphed to the edge of the bed, slipped down the side and headed towards his books, pulling out the ones he wanted me to read to him.

Finally he began to calm. I asked him if he had a good day.

“No” he replied.

“Did you have a bad day then?”

“Yes” he answered.

“What happened?”

Silence.

“Was someone mean to you?” (1)

“Yes”.

“Can you tell me who?”

Silence.

We continued reading, making our way through three readings of Dr. Seuss' the Foot Book and most of the Eric Carle board books in the house, finishing with Good Night Moon and a second reading of Have You Seen My Cat?

I put Toddler Alien in his crib and closed the door. Twenty minutes later I came back to check on him. He was dozing, but still awake. I blew him a kiss and touched the side of his check. He blew me a kiss back, smiled and rolled back onto his side. I moved Teddy to the top of the crib.

“Thank you” he said as his hand reached out to grab the bear.

I can't pretend that I'm not worried. (I also can't pretend that I'm not annoyed to be burning time writing about my child instead of discussing the spreading protests, the upcoming hockey season or ten other things that have nothing to do with the mom part of my life).

I was a sensitive kid and had a rough time up until I left for college. I know I can't prevent Toddler Alien from getting his feelings hurt, but I don't know how to help him shake it off better than I did. And it is hard to explain to a kid who isn't even two years old that sometimes people suck.

(1) This was precipitated by an incident last week in which a slightly older kid informed Toddler Alien when he arrived that he was not allowed to play with the cars. This proclamation was delivered with such a hostile tone that Toddler Alien promptly burst into tears.