So it's finally happened. I knew it would one day. And I did think sooner than later for the sole fact that Sister is a girl. It's rooted in the DNA I guess.
But I still hate it.
And I still want to protect her from everything imaginable.
But I can't. And I won't. Because Sister's got to learn some lessons...even the hard ones.
All it took was one comment. One comment from a good friend. One comment that opened her eyes to the fact that friends aren't perfect. And neither is she.
She cried a bucketful of tears in someone else's arms. Someone other than me was her first responder. And that was ok.
There was no opportunity to talk about the day casually or get more details of anything important because the noise level in our house is uncanny. Completing a sentence that can be heard by another rarely happens before 8pm. It's life as we know it.
After dinner, I took Sister to my bedroom for some quieter "girl time" (despite the knocking and screaming on the other side of the door). It was then that I could finally ask the probing questions. Get the details. See the raw emotion. Find the "lessons" to be learned.
I learned something myself. I learned that I've got a smart little girl. A girl, though imperfect, who sees the good in people and whose greatest desire is to show kindness to others. When either of those doesn't happen, her world cracks. She gets disappointed in herself as much as she does others. Unfortunately I think this is the first crack in her world of many. And I hate that.
When I asked her what she learned from this whole situation, she said, "That I need to be the best friend I can. That I can tell things to big people I trust like my teachers. And that I need to tell you everything."
Yes ma'am. I'll take #3 with a hearty helping of grace (and plaster) in the future please.