So, Bean and I are spending a lot of time together these days. A lot. I planned this summer of much time together mostly to assuage my guilt for having been out of town for three months. Pretty sure Bean has completely forgotten I was gone. I'm left trying to be a one-woman-summer-camp for three months.
Today we had ballet in the morning and a playdate in the afternoon (still hate that term with the white hot heat of a thousand playground slides--can't we come up with something better? Play appointment? Play coffee?). My apologies again, NYC parks service. The kids were just planting those blueberries. I realize you will no doubt need to close that section of lawn and reseed. I will provide the chicken wire.
So by the time we got home, Bean was good and muddy. Sent her directly in to the bathroom for a shower. She had to go potty first. Can't remember if she flushed or I did (come on, it was me, of course) but just as I flushed, I also reached down to remove her pink squishy ponytail holder. And like something out of a movie, it flew out of my hand like a rubber band shot by a ten year old boy, and landed square in the toilet just as the final swirl was circling around the bowl. And gurgle slurp glug glug glug. It was gone.
I started to laugh. Insane timing. No possible chance to fish that thing out.
Bean promptly lost it. Inconsolable, snotty, naked sobbing for about forty minutes.
Did I mention the hair band came from a pack of identical hair bands? She has five more EXACTLY like the one that went down the crapper, in the plastic befeathered carrying bag. Along with about 40 others in various other pleasing colors.
"But this was my most SPECIAL hairband!!!" naked sob sob snot wipe sob "Can't you call someone to get it back?"
"Well, who could I call, honey. It went down into the sewer with all the poopy. You wouldn't want it back now anyway. And we have lots more."
"But what will it do down there? It will be LONELY!"
sob sob snot. still naked.
lame comforting from me while I lay on her boppy and try not to fall asleep.
Bean looks up at me with big bluey hazely teary eyes.
"Can't we call the firemen?"
Of course, this isn't about hairbands right? It's never about the hairband. Just like Doc Hubby and I are never really fighting about the dishes. It's about loss and things going away and never coming back and her dawning realization that life itself implies death and the horrible moment a few days ago when she looked at me and said "Mama I don't want to die." My grandfather and possibly ghosts and you know.
So I said to her, "Are you feeling sad about things getting lost? Other things that are gone forever?"
And she wiped her snot on her towel and sobbed angrily, "Nooooo! I am just very sad about my very special hairband!"
Make note to discuss with non-slacker mothers who actually read about parenting during the Bean's next playsummit.