Tears make it all better

Tonight was a rough one for the fifth grader in this household. The perfectionist child of mine left her homework at school so couldn’t complete it. Most kids would shrug off the lapse or plan to sweet talk the teacher the next day.

Mine texted every friend she has in pursuit of the assignment. When no one could come through, she paced and whined. She yelled at her brother. She snapped at her mother (that’s me). She wrung her tween hands and cried out that she would no longer be the child who never missed assignments. She stomped. She watched YouTube even when I told her not to.

When she finally gave up on the hope that she’d be able to complete the work and I sat down next to her to tuck her into bed, the tears came faster in a rushing tumble of apology and regret.

“Mom. I’m so sorry I was a jerk. I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry. It’s just been a really crappy day.”

I held her and wiped her tears and told her that those days are normal and they’re what help us appreciate the good ones. She looked at me and said,

“Thank you, Mom. Thanks. But I’m sorry I’m so sad.”

In that moment, her beauty bowled me over. The child’s rosy cheeks and untethered ponytail and pile of damp Kleenex added up to something otherworldly and scaldingly honest. And then it was over: She smiled and burrowed into her pillow.

Sometimes moments of sorrow make for the most intense and lovely connections.