In the 10 minute car ride home from preschool, M and I have some of our best conversations.She hops in the car and the first words out of her mouth are always about what she ate that day. Followed by:
I picked white milk today. WHITE MILK! Isn't that SUCH a healthy choice?! Aren't you soooo proud of me? I made such a gooooood choice. Yum!
I tell her I'm soooo proud and (in my mind) praise the school for only offering white milk as a drink option.
After I hear about
Drake had to sit in the blue time out chair today. He threw blocks at someone.
Missy said she has a boyfriend. I want one, but I'm not 15. I'm only 4.
Ms. Tina called Jake a baby because he cried.
After filling me in on all the school drama, she tells me about all the fun activities she did.
I played with sticks. I ate lunch, and had white milk. We sang songs. I played dolls. My baby was soooo sick and had to go to the hospital.
Every time I express my concern for the baby and asked why she was sick? M never gives a response.
After a few weeks of her doll being horribly sick, M finally answered my question.
My baby is sick because she has a broken heart. Nothing can fix it.
Her heart is broken...forever.
I try to get more details...Why did her heart break? What happened? But never get a response. I turn on kid songs and she giggles and sings the rest of the way home...as I pray God heals the broken hearted.
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