There was this seven year old


There are two girls who ride Eden’s bus who judge me. One is seven and one is six. They gang up on me together.

Yesterday I looked like crap (I hadn’t showered in over 48 hours and was still wearing the pajamas from the night before). Garrison has been fighting some nasty virus that has left him whiny and crying and with a fever constantly over 102. It’s not been the worse illness in the world but it has been the whiniest.

Anyway, they saw Garrison and I standing at the window anxiously awaiting the school bus to come. He was in pajamas and was sucking a paci. They told Eden that Garrison wasn’t a baby and didn’t need to suck a paci. I had a calm conversation with Eden about how we are the parents and get to decide what goes and doesn’t go in our house. And pacifiers during the waking hours for a two year old who hasn’t been happy since Saturday morning works for us.

But for some strange reason these girls bother me. They always make comments when we are outside playing waiting for the bus to come. They run from my kids like they are the zombie apocalypse themselves. They think they are being funny. It’s dumb. But for some weird reason their judging comments bother me more than a grown adult. Maybe it’s because I don’t want my kids to grow up “speaking” their mind about stuff they have no knowledge about. Maybe it’s because I have been to the birthday party of one of the little girls and the mom’s there were dressed better, had nicer stuff, smelled better than me, and had their lives together more than mine. Who knows, honestly.

It was a good reminder to keep my mouth closed on things I know nothing about and to embrace where I am with five kids five and under. And to hold my tongue instead of yelling, “Well, well, well, YOU ARE ONLY SEVEN!” while sticking my tongue out.


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