Tonight I was getting the girls ready for bed when Priya asked me why the hair brush was broken. I hesitated because I hated to tell her the truth. That I lost my temper and threw it on the floor two weeks ago after she refused to put on her pants or some such thing (I don't remember what made me so mad, but I can say it was likely something she did).
"I"m not sure why it's broken," I stalled.
"But why is it broken, Mommie?" She has found that she must repeat her question 49 times in order to get an answer.
"I just don't know, Priya. Now put your shirt on. . . "
"But why is is broken, Mommie"
"Well. . . it's because I lost my temper one day and broke the brush."
She thought about this for a minute and then said, "But what happened to your temper? Where is it? Don't worry, Mommie, it will come back. You'll find it one day. . . "
Oh, I hope so. I really really hope so.
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