stories from day 12, the mulled-over edition

this morning, my team of back-up for dealing with two-year-olds gained a father. that child that spent all of yesterday testing my boundaries and concluded in the end that he needed a new teacher (because he is so used to working his way either by manipulation or sheer outlasting of effort)...he started right in again this morning. and the assistant director called his dad (which was nice. that she was supporting me). and his dad came.

half of me thought he might be mad. the dad. but what i saw was relief. apparently he's been fighting this battle alone at home (the mother/siblings are all under this youngest's sway). so the dad was glad to gain an ally, too, and glad to come. and have the child know he would come.

whew.

there's a little one who shares my name in my class. she sooo reminds me of myself, and i so love her. she melted down today because her new pull-ups (which have the exact same dora pictures on them) have white on the sides instead of pink. it took me a few minutes to figure out the difference and then i couldn't help a personal laugh inside myself as i eased that pull-up onto her writhing body which protested with every ounce of her being the change to her "status quo." her normal. once i finally got on her pull-up (and got it to stay on against her will) and her skirt and her little green crocs, it still took about five minutes of holding her until she stopped trying to take them off again. (plus a few more for her to calm down enough to eat her snack.)

it's amazing what you can do even with a two-year-old in your arms.

but i love her for it. isn't that crazy? all i can see is my who-knows-what-age self shedding desperate tears over a velvet dress with seams that poke her tummy.

it makes me think of God. watching me throw figurative temper tantrums of worry at change, or things out of my control, or silly doubts and anxieties...and yet loving me more for it. is that possible? that He's that...tender?

i like getting to be tender and strong. firm, but kind. i think that maybe, just maybe, i can make a difference even with these twos to whom i tell the same things over and over and who never seem to listen. but maybe it's not the things i say that matter so much. maybe it's the love i show.