Youngest thoroughly evaluates a situation before she dips one toe in to test the water. Then she decides if it's worthy of her time and attention and may participate. I love that about her.
Saturday she had a birthday party at one of those cavernous warehouses full of bouncy houses. She spent 30 minutes scoping out the action, made her plan, and jumped into the fray at the slide. Promptly knocked heads with another little boy as they bounced into each other accidentally, but no matter, she pressed on. She had made her decision, right?
Then, disaster. She entered a castle bounce house that
"Hey girls, have you seen Youngest?"
"Oh, yeah, she's right here (pointing under their feet), she wants to come out." Blissfully continuing to climb over her body.
So in true Moms CAN move cars when they think their child is hurt fashion, I hurtled through the entrance of the castle, scaled the wiggly wall, dove over the slide and there she was. Bawling. Hitching and bawling so loudly, so terrified, possibly more scared than I've seen her.
So I grab her, hold her, all the while these two girls are still zooming past us, back and forth, back and forth, back and forth, completely oblivious. Ever wondered how people can actually stampede other people with no awareness of doing it? I got a glimpse into it Saturday. Yes, these girls were young, but I'm telling you, Youngest was in such a terror that I hope and pray my own children would GET SOMEONE if they ever see another kid like that.
Anyhoo. I get her out and when she can finally talk, she tells me that she "got stuck and the vewy, vewy scawy purple dwagon was on top of her and she was so, so scawed, Mommy. Can we go tell Oldest? Can we call Daddy and tell him?"
The purple dragon in question was attached well above her head, and was obviously not a real threat. But I'm sure to a 2 year old laying on the floor, unable to get up, it did look as real and scary as her perception of it.
She's made her plan of attack for the next time she goes, which is (and I'm not making this up, people), "I'm going to go to that purple dragon and say NO, THANK YOU, Purple dragon. I do NOT want to come in there today." And she nods vehemently while saying this, convincing herself of the wisdom in her plan.
Moral of this story? May you recognize the purple dragons in your own castle for what they really are - a scary, yet imaginary threat. Don't give them any more time, energy, attention or fear than they deserve. And learn to say "no thank you" to them. Nobody needs a fake purple dragon terrorizing their castle, do they? We have enough real dragons to slay as it is.
Do you have any purple dragons in your life right now? I do. But I'm taking my lesson from a 2 year old and saying, No, thank you, purple dragon.