Triggers

            Yesterday Ax totally freaked out at a request to keep the bath water in the tub, a request he’s heard many times.  I don’t recall it ever triggering anything hotter than placid acknowledgement by him.  Occasionally he’s even complied. 
            Yesterday though he threw his plastic rocket into the tub with a mighty splash and stormed out of the bathroom, down the hall, to the tent in his room, where he sat, naked, dripping, and fuming.  I approached the tent with what I thought was a conscious loving type vibe and a towel, “Ax honey, I can see you’re very upset.”
            In response he bolted from the tent, streaked past me to the living room where he huddled up behind the sofa.  I followed him there.  “Oh sweetie,” I managed, before he ran away again.  “Well crap,” I thought, “I got nothing left.”
            I went to the kitchen and startled at the sight of Ax curled up on the floor.  We made eye contact briefly and then I poured myself another cup of coffee and left the room.  I told Mike I was going to yoga, loud enough for Ax to hear me, and then took off, leaving Ax to be soothed by his conscious loving father, who understood. 

            Later in the day I found myself explaining the nature of imperfection to Ax, expressing my desire to be a perfect mom and my knowledge that I never would be.  I assured him that there would be many times when I did not do or say what he wanted me to, but that I loved him and would try my best.  He forgave me and I forgave him.