Whew! I escaped last Monday’s debacle mostly unscathed. My phone is in good working order. My datebook got an “extreme makeover” and is now colored something I like to call “vintage brown” (Or poo stain. Take your pick.). My laptop is now fully reassembled and back in business, thanks to my incredibly talented hubby (so thankful I married a nerd!). I admit, however, that I nearly had a heart attack when viewing my laptop spread out in itty bitty pieces on the kitchen table, meticulously undergoing the “decaffeinating” process by the aforementioned hubby.
Glad. That’s. Over.
Transitions are hard for people like me. And people like her. My sweet, 5-year-old Ladybug, the sensitive one. She emotionally attaches to people. And things. And she is fiercely loveable. When we moved she cried for days. It has been nearly a month since we moved, but she tells me it still doesn’t feel like home. She doesn’t like it here. And she misses her old room. (Kid, rip my heart out and stomp all over it, will ya?)
And today our faithful minivan went to the great garage in the sky. We sent our beloved van to the scrap yard and watched as the big tractor hauled it away. There was much wailing. And sobbing. And oh, the tears.
Ladybug, lamenting something like, “I have always loved that van. There will never be another one. I can’t look at it like that!”
Peanut was crying, too. “I just know that I left my favorite Nintendo DS game in there. Mom, pleeeeeeaaaaaase go check one more time!” No, I will not be risking my life by rushing into the crusher for your video game. Next!
Little Lovey just wanted a sucker. And I just wanted them all to stop the insanity. (Earlier, I realized my fresh coffee was still steaming on the kitchen counter as I sped to town, late for an appointment.)
Ladybug has informed me that we can only replace her with another black van. Nothing else. She doesn’t yet know that the new one is blue. Sincerely hoping that goes over well. It seems so silly, but even at the age of 5, she just really cares. About everything. I love that kid. Someday she is going to make a really great nurse. Or a teacher. Or a veterinarian. She has so much love to give.
In her bedtime prayers, she lays bare her heart. No one and nothing is left out her petition.
She. Is. Fervent.
She prays all kinds of things like:
For all the people with wells to have enough water in their well.
For all of the old ladies who were born in 1962.
For people who are blind to find cheap glasses.
For cancer to not be contagious.
For the plain Cheerios to magically turn into Honey Nut Cheerios by breakfast time.
For mommy to send leftover lasagna to the hungry children in Bolivia.
Ladybug’s evening prayer time is often my favorite 10 minutes of the day. Yes. Ten illuminating minutes of child-like faith and this mama choking back tears of pride and giggles of pure joy.
She is the sensitive one. And I wouldn’t have it any other way.
Love & Coffee!
“You’re blessed when you’re content with just who you are—no more, no less. That’s the moment you find yourselves proud owners of everything that can’t be bought.”
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