I broke your rock, mommy

Espen has always been strong. Of spirit, of will, of emotion, of limb. He moves through the world with conviction, which is inspiring and sometimes, surprising. 

Last night he was bathing in our large soaking tub, recreating the scene of his recent amphibious vehicle excursion on Lake Union. His little red wooden truck was said floating vehicle and he wanted me to tie a boat on TOP of the truck, which had been relegated to act as "pontoon". He is three mind you.

"Mom! It's a pontoon on my amphibious vehicle! Tie it on!" 

"Ok. Here you go. You have two more minutes before it's time to get out."

"Ok. Now do this thing." He goes through an elaborate sequence of motions and directions that become more garbled the more excited he becomes. I, frankly, am tired and not that up to deciphering the 12 step process he is requiring.

"Espen, you go ahead and do it. You have two minutes."

Espen reaches down and closes the drain, halting the water removal. He smiles with mischief and pride.

"Espen, you need to let the water out. The deal was you could stay until it was all gone, not stop it and play longer."

He stares at me as I move to unplug the drain. I can see the emotion rising in his body like a brewing storm. He looks around for available objects to enact this upon. 

And settles on my piece of amber that is sitting in the water as a special treat to make bath even more magical.

He lunges towards it, grabs it and hurls it with all the passion he holds inside. 

We both watch as it shatters into a hundred tiny pieces. 

Part of me is fascinated, the other part a bit sad as it was a favorite piece. 

Espen freezes. Looks at me, surprised himself perhaps at the results of his anger.

"Espen! Your anger just broke mommy's special rock!" 

Espen jumps quickly out of the tub and comes closer to me.

Internally, I congratulate myself on not yelling, but rather using my voice to portray importance. Way to not loose your shit, mama. You are evolving.

This seems like an ideal time to do a small teaching since I am emotionally triggered but still calm enough to reason. But where to begin? Espen steps in. 

"I'm sorry I broke your special rock, mommy. We can glue it back together." he offers helpfully, trying to make amends.

"Well, Boo. We can't glue it. It's too smashed. It can't be fixed."

He pauses to consider.

"Well mommy, I'm sorry I broke your rock. I will go get you one from my sand pit."

Inside I'm laughing. Keep a straight face.

"That's the right thing to do, to try and fix what you broke, honey, but it's not quite the same. That special rock was one of a kind and it can't be replaced. Mommy is just going to be a little sad for awhile, but thank you for wanting to make it right."

Espen peers deeply into my eyes.

"I'm sorry you're sad, mommy. I'm going to get you that rock."

And runs off nude to his sand pit. He returns with a teeny tiny pebble and places it on my nightstand. Than runs back to me looking pleased.

"There, mommy. I put it on your table thing so you won't be sad anymore."

That kid. Squishy. Love love. 

And that's how it's done, folks. From sad mommy to melty heart in one minuscule rock flat.