Friday, February 28, 2014


Moira spent a long time at the park today collecting this grass. "Wild Canadian Grass!" She called it, and she had great plans for it when we got home.
Sadly, I was unable for awhile to stop picking at her. Wasn't that enough grass? We have grass like that at home. You are going to get tired of carrying that, and I can't help you.
Eventually I realized what I was doing, and apologized for trying to quash her joy. "Yes, Mom, I have a plan for it. Don't worry, you won't have to touch it. This is making me happy." And other than pointing out that the chocolate store we went to probably had ribbon she could use to tie her bundle up, and reminding her to hold it up straight so other people could use the sidewalk, I didn't.
Not even when we got to the restaurant, and she confidently placed her bundle on the steps outside before we went in. It was of course, gone when we came out (my friend and I both noticed and gave little gasps, but didn't say anything). Moira didn't remember until we were halfway back to the hotel.
I feel like I failed her. The one time I should have said something was the one time I didn't. She worked so hard on this and now it's gone. She asked if we could check for it tomorrow, but I told her there are people whose job it is to clean the steps so it would certainly be gone by then. We have agreed that if it doesn't rain one of the days this weekend we can go back to the park and she can collect more, or we can collect some similar grass in Seattle soon. The important thing to remember is that we can both try again.


  1. Oh, I can relate to this so much! I appreciate your sensible and gentle conclusion—I need to remember that.