Running behind again, still searching for a morning routine that will get me to work by 9 and Charlotte in pre-school by 8:45. We rush through our morning, packing bags, eating breakfast, dressing Charlotte and getting ready to leave. Finally we are out the door when she looks at me in panic and says, “You forgot to wrap my arm”!
The cast has been off for 4 days; she’s had a splint through Sunday and all of Monday a simple wrap to cover the ugly Band-Aids, which I had finally removed in the evening bath. She’s completely better, there is no need for wraps and in fact a wrap will only prevent her from flexing the arm, which she needs to do to regain motion! I try to reason with her but she’s 4 and she will not be reasoned with. She is certain that an exposed arm means the other kids will hurt Charlotte. She’s angry with me for taking her out of the house without protection.
We make it to the car with her crying the entire five-minute walk. I’m late for work, I’ve already paid for school, with her in this mood she’d be a terror for the rest of the family today, she’s going to school. I get her into her car seat with some effort. She glares at me and continues to complain that the other kids will hurt Charlotte. She’s scared of pain. She refuses to play with my phone and stares out the window with her little chin jutted out.
Oh the frustrations of four, to not have an adult understand and acquiesce!
In the half hour drive her face finally softens and anger slowly ebbs away. We arrive to school and she runs ahead of me, I see some joy in her steps. We arrive into the class and she demands a jacket before going into her class. I agree but I brought the wrong jacket. She wants it zipped up and the hood placed over her head. I agree but refuse to remove her hair ties. We finally walk into the classroom and the teacher exclaims, “What happened?” Where do I start? So I simply say, it was not an easy morning and Charlotte is worried her arm will get bumped today. We say our goodbyes, Charlotte finally wanting a hug and kiss. She smiles at me. I ask the teacher to call me if Charlotte wants to leave.
I drive to work knowing it was right to deny her the arm wrap but part of me wishing I had just given in one more day. Poor Charlotte, to have a mom just as determined to do things her way must be frustrating. Sometimes I wish I could be more relaxed about things but I’m not. We are going to have quite a time in the teen years.