As I walk into the living room to check on the munchkin, I spy what looks suspiciously like spilled liquid on the sofa cushion. “Ah, munchkin? What’s this? Did you spill your water or something?” I ask calmly.
“Nope,” he says, eyes averted.
Okay…now I know something’s going on. “Okay…did your juice box spill, then?”
“Nope,” he says, eyes flick to me and then away again.
Right. Okay, time for a stronger approach. “Look, honey. I can see something spilled on the couch, I just need to know what it is so I can figure out how to clean it up. So…what is it? Water? Juice box? What?”
“Nothing, okay! Nothing,” he says frantically.
“I’m not going to be upset, hon–”
“Yes you will!” he interrupts. “You’ll be mad at me!”
Okay, now I know something’s going on. Accidents happen. Nothing to flip out over – especially something as simple as spilled food or drink. Come on. Get real. But he’s worried that I’ll be mad. Why?
“I promise I won’t be mad, honey. Please just tell me so I can clean it up,” I plead, again, calmly.
“BUBBLES!” he shouts, the word practically bursting from his mouth.
I stare, dumbfounded. “What? Um, bubbles?”
He nods, eyes downcast. “I took the bubbles out, and I knew I wasn’t supposed to. But I did it anyway. And they spilled. *Long pause.* I’m sorry.”
Lesson Learned
Aha. Well, connection made. He was upset because he knew he’d done something he was specifically told not to do – no opening/playing with the gigantic jar of bubbles in the house because the opening for the liquid is too big. Case in point.
Lesson learned.
“Oh. Um, I think some of it might have gotten on the pillows, too,” he says, smiling shyly and picking up two of the throw pillows that clearly show a lovely splash pattern on them. “I’ll help you, Mommy.”
Crazy munchkin.
The bubbles are gone, the couch is clean, and all is right in munchkinland again. Thank goodness.
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