And as I stood and considered whether or not this was an indication of my angry son and his developing character, I heard his tears through the window above me, coming from inside the bathroom.
His soul hurt. This was not what he expected either. Hello, Anger — I don’t remember inviting you into my house.
Scary.
Terrified.
Ashamed.
Worried.
Scared.
Deep breath, #MamaWarrior. Deep breath. That small, fragile soul needs you right now. He needs your very best. Your biggest compassion. Your most gentle and firm mama love and reassurance. More deep breaths. Go Mama.
Go. Go now. Go open the front door, tiptoe through the broken glass, hear him hearing you coming, watch the bathroom door crack open, see the face you love most in the world red with worry and wet with tears, his voice is suddenly so small: “Mama, I’ll never do it again, I am SO sorry.” More tears. More weeping. Such uncertainty on his sweet face.
Go Mama. Get him. Go now. Scoop him into your lap. Yup, you’re crying too. Damn this was big. Hold him tight. Watch how he curls into a ball in your arms so quickly. See how eager he is to be loved by you. To be reassured by you. See how small he still is. See how fragile that spirit is.
I love you.
You are safe.
I am right here.
The worst part is over now.
I’ve got you.
I’m here.
I love you.
Go Mama. Tell him about Anger. Tell him now. Anger is a really powerful feeling. You have a right to your Anger. Anger burns hot. It can purify. It can also destroy. He nods. He feels it. He’s met Anger now.
