This girl who has gotten on the bus everyday with nary a word of complaint and was barely recognized for it.  She is so compliant.  We expect that of her now.  So we sent her off to a strange school full of strangers on a bus full of strangers and she didn’t bat an eye.  And there were no Lego minifigures waiting for her at the end of the first week.  I honestly didn’t think about it.  Just knew she’d go.  Knew she’d go anywhere we asked her to.
“Here’s your new bus honey.  Yup, that’s your driver in the Viking helmet and holding the mace.  I’m sure she’s very nice, usually, perhaps she’s just having a bad day.  I know there are no seat belts, but I swear it’s safe.  And when it stops, you can get off and that’ll be your new school.  All you have to do is find your new classroom, you can ask any one of the 700 strangers milling around outside to help you there.  Nope, I can’t come.  You’ll have to just go with your brothers and you know what good care they take of you.  It’ll be great.  Now give me a kiss and I’ll see you at noon.  I love you.”
Yes Mudder.
So, yesterday Lulu and I wandered around Meijer and looked for some kind of treat for a kid who would do this brave thing and then stand by while her brothers were rewarded for it and she wasn’t.  Briefly considering if there should be direct correlation between monetary output and what a crappy mother I felt like, I did ask someone in a blue vest to direct me to the ponies, but landed instead in the aisle of her dreams where I threw $6.95 at making it up to her with these lovely new toys.  Meet Squinkies…the newest stupid fad (think silly bands) that will sweep the nation and leave us all regretting not thinking of it ourselves.  We now have three and more in my stash waiting distribution into bags for our upcoming trip to San Francisco (more on that later).  She has named them Blueprint, Greenprint and Pink/yellow/purpleprint (but you can call it Sally).
There was also this quilt that I finished two years ago but which was just located and returned to me beautifully quilted and finished that I put on her bed to make us both smile.  It worked, even though the pattern is called Snake Charmer and I think snakes are, well, not charming.  It still is a happy quilt.
And these slippers that were dropped off by a dear friend (you know who you are) who I was maybe too brash with about a certain upcoming fundraiser dinner?  If so, I’m sorry.  Turns out you actually can get salt water and fresh from the same spring (look it up in your Bibles).  They were crafted by another dear person (you know who you are) who is a more talented seamstress than I’ll ever be.  Ever.
So all these things worked together to make this wonderful, compliant, brave girl feel justly rewarded for her feats of courage these past three weeks.  This girl who asks nothing of me but that I stock chocolate in the pantry and enter into her world of imagination a few times a day.  This girl whose language melts our hearts even while every speech therapist within miles starts formulating a treatment plan as they listen.  This girl who as we speak is dressed like a child prostitute from the Ukraine but can somehow pull it off, spangles and all, and who has been out in the barn checking the mouse traps for the last little bit.  She has been rewarded.  So have I.

4 Replies to “reward.”

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s