Yesterday, something out of character for you occurred: you spilled your entire container of newly-opened milk while we were eating lunch. You doused yourself, your Mama, the floor, my wallet, and keys. You whimpered.
I sprang into action to save what dry parts of our laps we could. I told you not to worry, and I meant it.
I'm not too proud to get down on my hands and knees in a McDonald's and mop up spilled milk.
We make messes; we clean them up. No greater life lesson than that.
This morning, we were about a mile from daycare when the lid of your princess sippy cup came off and doused you with 8oz. of freed apple juice. This time, you wailed.
You cried and cried. Saying you did it again. How you spilled yesterday AND today. How you ruined your favorite horsey shirt. How the Daycare Lady was going to be mad at you for being wet. Your sad, terrified rant broke my heart.
Mama, I am going to need so many wipes today. My elbow is even wet, you said.
I kept telling you it would be fine. That it was an accident, completely coincidental from yesterday. That everyone has accidents, that no one was mad at you, and we would fix it.
You're awfully serious for a three-year-old. Your reaction reminds me that I am parenting a sensitive child who is beginning to understand logic. A child, who just like the rest of the world, is scared of being judged or punished for accidents or inconsequential events.
Baby girl, I meant what I said. It was an accident.
And I'll love you no matter how big a mess you make, intentionally, unintentionally, or otherwise.