Aww, come on, you don’t have to pay for this rollercoaster ride.

Sunday School
Little girls sit in a circle talking about favorite colors and foods and their latest boo-boos. Grace enthusiastically participates: “I love purple and pink! I love oatmeal!” An older girl, a four year old, rolls her eyes at Grace’s animated responses. “We have a girl named Grace at my school, but she’s different.” When Grace says oatmeal like ewtmeal, the four year old giggles dismissively. I pause to gauge Grace’s response, and when there isn’t one, I continue with the lesson. When class is over, I rush Grace out and take her home; I want to protect her even though she has no sense of the girl’s cruelty.

A walk though the park
We hold hands and talk in quiet voices. I tell Grace how much I love her. I explain that sometimes people are mean, sometimes they hurt our feelings, but that I, her mommy, will always be there for her, will always love her. We walk further, and I hum “You are my sunshine”, her favorite song. I hear her sniffling. She’s crying.

“What’s wrong, my sweet? Why are you crying?”

“I’m crying because you don’t like me?”

“Honey, that’s not true, I love you. Sometimes I don’t like the things you do or the way you act, but that doesn’t mean I don’t like you. I always like you. I always love you.”

“That’s not what you said.”

My mind spins. She remembers that. Oh, god, why does she remember me saying that.

“Is there something I can say or something we can do that will make you feel better?”

“I don’t like you either, mommy. I want to go be with Grandma and Grandpa. They like me.”

“Grace, sweetie, there’s a big difference between not liking the way someone acts and not liking the person, do you understand?”

“I know. I just want to be with Grandma and Grandpa. I don’t want to be with you anymore.”

We walk on in silence. We’re still holding hands. I don’t know what to say. We walk for two blocks without words.

“Mommy, sometimes I want to be with Grandma, and sometimes I want to be with you. It changes.”

“I understand that. You don’t have to like me, but I want you to know that I will always love you. I would miss you if you left to go be with Grandma and Grandpa.”

“Mommy, you have Julia, you wouldn’t miss me.”

“Grace, I only have one you, and I only have one Julia. I need both of my girls in my life.”

“Can we call Grandma when we get home?”

“Yes, of course we can.”

When we got home, I dialed my mom’s number. Grace talked to her Grandma for ten minutes. She told my mom that she wanted to come and stay in Michigan because her mom is mean. Thankfully, Grandma steered the conversation onto other topics, and by the end Grace agreed to come to Michigan in August for her birthday.

The afternoon dissolved into early evening. Craig came home, and I related the day’s events. Afterwards I sat down at the computer alone, and I cried a little. Even though I want her to be able to express any emotion, I don’t want her to have the feelings she expressed today. Two weeks ago in a fit of exhaustion and anger I told her I didn’t like her at that moment. I quickly followed that comment with “I’m sorry, Grace. I don’t like your behavior, but I still love you.” Apparently the first statement stayed with her.

This morning I wanted to protect her from another girl’s remarks. This afternoon it was clear that perhaps I should protect her from me.