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Lessons in Do-Overs From My Six-Year-Old Daughter
“Mommy,” my six-year-old announced from the back seat of the car, “I think that when people die, they start their life over again.”
My six-year-old gets philosophical when she’s in trouble. In this case, we’d just spent the morning wading and playing in a clear country stream, with her little sister. All three of us had delighted in the gold light on the water, its cooling currents, the crystalline shine of rocks. We walked up to the rocky falls where the water rushed, then lingered in the slow pools. We built rocky towers and draped our clothes over the driftwood fort erected by a previous visitor.
When it was time to go, the team spirit cracked. My girls adopted guerilla tactics to delay our departure. I’d asked the girls to rinse themselves of silt; instead, they smeared it on. I’d asked them to put on their shoes; they threw the shoes further away.
“It’s not funny,” I told the two-year-old. “Yes, it is,” she answered.
“You have to listen,” I snapped at the six-year-old. “You’re not my boss,” she retorted.
Like a boss, I snapped them into their carseats and peeled off toward home. I refused to put on the same Disney story that we’d been listening to for the past three weeks. Even the 2-year-old knew it by heart, and it had become as ubitiquous in the car…
