Dear Beaners-

Last night was a NIGHT. You had a fantastic day at school and then it was off to the dentist. You are so scared of the dentist, but you were a rock star. I could tell how nervous you were, but there were no tears and you got through it. It was so proud of you and, as a reward, we decided to stop for ice cream. And that is where the wheels fell off.

You were already pissy that we were going to get our haircut instead of going home. Then the ice cream you wanted had hot fudge on it. That hot fudge caused your ice cream to melt faster then you could eat it, so your bowl overflowed. I was already on edge from a stressful weekend and you and your brother squabbling in the car and I didn’t react to the huge mess of ice cream on your lap and the car seat as well as I should have. I snapped at you and you, my sweets, snapped right back.

And that was that. I was standing in the parking lot yelling at you, my 6 year old over, melted ice cream and you were screaming right back, rejecting all my attempts to help. We were a literal and metaphorical mess.

Bean- I hate nights like that. Even though the night ended on a good note, I still am sitting here feeling like a jerk. I’m the adult, I’m the parent- I’m supposed to know how to act appropriately.

Except, sometimes I don’t. Sometimes you push every single button I have at the same time and my head explodes.  And sometimes I push your buttons and your head explodes. And this scares me to no end because you’re six. We are lucky enough to still have at least 12 more years under the same roof and I can’t wait to watch you grow. Truly. You are an amazing kid, and you’re going to be an equally amazing teenager and adult. You have the brains and ability to rule the world and I love watching you.

But, girlfriend, you and I both need to learn grace with each other. I am the adult so I’ll take on the lion’s share of the work for now, but you’re not off the hook. We both need to learn to take a deep breath and walk away sometimes. We both need to learn how to talk to each other with clearer, kinder words. Your father and I are doing our best to give you these tools and words and skills so you can tell us what you really mean when you tell us your shoes is too loose, then too tight, then too loose again and then end with an ugh I hate my life! and a slammed door.

I adore you more than chocolate milk. You are my favorite six year old in the world and I can’t imagine how boring life would be without you in it. Know that when I’m angry or when you’re angry or when we’re both angry, that I love you. Nothing will change that no matter how many stupid fights we have. You will always be my favorite daughter.

But sometimes, bedtime is my favorite part of the day.

Love,
Mom