It always begins as a tentative question…
Mommy, I don’t think this train is working right?
I approach, slowly, giving him time to work on it. I crouch down beside him and return his question with a question.
Do you think it’s the train that’s not working, or the tracks?
His eyes remain fixed on the task at hand. He has an idea, a job to do, and this wasn’t part of the plan.
His movements become forced. I can feel his frustration mounting. Soon, he will be in tears. Soon, his emotions will take over.
But I’m trying and it’s not going right! Can you fix it, Mommy? Please?
Eyes full of sadness meet my gaze. Tears of frustration threaten to rain down on his sweet baby cheeks.
An internal battle courses through my brain. Encourage him, but let him try. He can do it if he just keeps trying. No, don’t let him struggle. He just wants to play, to drive his trains. Why should he have to cry when something just isn’t right? What is the benefit of stress? What kind of a mother wouldn’t help?…
Please head on over to moonfrye to continue reading “Broken Tracks”…
