Yesterday our berry picking attempt was thwarted by a rather powerful thunderstorm. We pulled to the side of the road to wait things out -- drops so thick we couldn't see the road.
Gretchen didn't understand that our adventure wasn't going to happen until we were back in town, near our home... a little voice piped up from the backseat...
We go farm? Pick staw-bewwies?
Tears as big as the raindrops fell from her cheeks when I told her we couldn't go berry picking in the storm. Such a heartbreaking moment. I ached for her.
Generally, when some big event like this is nearing, I say nothing to her. I wait til it's upon us before springing the exciting news. In this case, someone spilled the beans to her earlier in the morning, and so her entire day was spent dreaming of strawberries.
I often find myself struggling somewhere between wanting to give her the thrill of anticipation, and the urge to protect her from disappointment. It's a fine line and I walk it daily.
Two is a tricky age for explaining the world, but we do our best.
How do you handle this sort of thing with your little ones? I don't want to rob her of that wonderful feeling that comes when we're looking forward to something, but my soul cries for her when things don't work out as planned.
I can't protect her forever... this I know. But my gosh, it's hard not to try.
