3 Dec 2013
It was not my finest hour. Even with my calming Sunday night ritual, Monday unveiled herself to me a little too early this week. A pounding head and a washing mountain were desperately vying for my attention but it was a tent and the little girl carrying it that won out. Crispy grass in need of a mow, glaring sun and click together tent uprights that would simply not behave.
Much tsking and much wrangling. Then angry tears pricking my eyes and threatening to show themselves. Finally a crumpled tent thrown down in frustration and subsequent stomping off to the laundry. A spectacular display one could only describe as a tantrum.
And when all my demons gnashed their teeth at once; the stubbornness, the temper, the "woe is me" melodrama.....the student became the teacher. She followed me and cuddled my leg and whispered in my own words, "Take a big breath Mumma. Let's solve this problem together."
I held one side and she clicked in the other. She held the post while I tapped in the stake. And there it was - a tent, a girl and her boy, and one very humbled Mumma.