"Morning Time"

It's not unusual for her little bouncing body to hop into "our space" between us in bed. The pattern is tickle, wiggle, tickle more, and kiss and hug the "little bug" The usual response is giggle, and jump on her grandfather's back and demand "horsey ride."

This morning was different. Stillness. Then a soundbite like a "cry."
"Ooh honey, did you get hurt?"

I felt her eyes. They were real tears. Not fake tears, either. They were colossal crocodile tears. They were grand, and wet. And then the drops fell upon her cheeks like pellets.

That got our attention. But my husband and I looked at one another gesturing the other to wait for her to tell us.

How do you find a way to ask a four year old what sad is like?

I know my husband depends on the therapist part of me. But the truth is, when it's about our family, that's different. Or is it?

In the back of my mind, poppa's too, we think about the way adults express sadness. We look for the reasons that connect the thought and the feeling, and then the action. Truth is, some adults can admit to the things that bring on feelings, but others cannot.

So I touched our little ones tears, one by one, gave the first drop, a name. We called it "rain drop." We asked for the sun to come through.

Rain drop, why are there so many clouds?

Then she and I created a poem at which time her irritation melted into a slight mischievous grin.

In the back of my mind, again I thought she was attached to a yearning for her mom or dad. Being the sensitive child, she probably doesn't want to hurt our feelings. That's the adult explanation.

But, we were careful not to jump to conclusions for her. Toddlers really do have the capacity to let us know, so I crossed my fingers, and hoped I was right.

"Sad sometimes is not bad.
Sad can be mixture of good and mad.
Sad can come out like a hum ,
Sad can come out like a bang of a drum.

Tears and sniffles try to hide,
Seldom do adults let them glide,
Rush to catch them one by one,
Now our kiddo is ready to jump and run."

"So, is sad still around?" I asked . The shallow breaths dissipated. A grin greeted us with a sneak preview. Not too fast,of course. That would be tricky.

The grin turned into a cackle, and the child jumped off the bed, started to chase her grandfather. She then popped upon her own bed, and produced a forced cry.

"What's that about?"her poppa questioned?

"You called me mouse " Her lips puckered, and she crossed her arms quite sternly.

" My teacher said, "Never, call people names. "

The painful facade faded into gleeful expression.
"Wanna, play, poppa?"

Sometimes, much ado about nothing. But to a four year old, one moment, or one thought, is their whole world.