Our family has been on the road for two and a half weeks. For the most part, the girls have survived pretty well. But one thing has been firmly established; I am their safe place.
And it ain’t pretty.
This is what it looks like…my girls are happily playing with cousins….or an aunt…or an uncle…or any combination thereof. Happy. Giggly. Well Behaved.
Tears. Groping. Despair.
Really? Cause I was watching…and you were fine…nay…happy. I enter and you fall apart? Really?
Gulp. It was my oh-so-wise sis, Christy Roach, that nailed this phenomenon for me…”the safe place.” And it plays out pretty much the same for everyone. You leave a beloved child to play with a family member or other care-taker…the child is delightful for said care-taker. You return and all hell breaks loose. Apparently it is quite stressful for darlings to behave…and have fun…cause you’d think their little worlds had crumbled when “the safe place” show up.
The gnashing of teeth!
I reckon it’s a compliment. Right? I am the safe place for my littles. So this means when I walk in…they fall apart.