Broken Glass

A week or two ago, Elizabeth grabbed my dinner glass off the counter where I was about to load it into the dishwasher and she threw it across the room.  Obviously, it broke.  (And if you follow me on Twitter, you’ll remember that I ended up with a sliver of glass in my foot.  It’s out now, thanks.  Or at least my foot absorbed it and it doesn’t hurt anymore.)  We had a discussion about how we don’t throw big girl glasses and how it is sad when they break.

Last night, Elizabeth threw her cup at the Japanese restaurant.  It was one of those styrofoam ones with the lids and it broke too.  (Luckily, where she threw it and the fact that this restaurant loves us made this not a very big deal.)  We told her that we don’t throw cups and it is sad when they break and she really shouldn’t do that again.  (And she spent the rest of the meal with no cup of her own and had to take sips of my water.  Highly disappointing if you are two.)

Last night at bedtime, I did the normal routine and put her into bed.  She stood up and cried.  I went back in there.  She didn’t need anything real, just kept making up reasons for me to stay.  (One of these reasons was hilarious.  She leaned over, right in front of me, and spit on her sheet and then told me it was wet and she needed a new sheet on her crib.)  I went in many times.  Matt went in.  Matt and I went in together.  Nothing worked.  She just kept standing up and crying.

She used to cry at bedtime when she didn’t want to go to bed and for the most part, we could ignore her and she’d settle down in a few minutes.  But now that she’s accepted bedtime as an inevitability, she doesn’t cry like this unless there is truly something wrong.

So I went in, turned on her light, and sat with her in the rocking chair.  We talked for a while.  (And again, hilarious from the two year old.  She told me that she didn’t want to go night-night.  “I am done with night-nights, Mama.”)  Eventually, I got her to explain to me what was bothering her.

And, as I am sure you guessed from the back story, she was upset about the broken cups.  “Did the cuppies break, Mama?  I don’t want you to go buh-bye.”  So we talked about how sometimes cups break and yes, they even get thrown away in the trash (in a Target bag, she remembered), but Dibits said sorry for throwing, and Mama said “that’s okay” and everything is all better now.  And that Mama would not go away, but only into the other room so that Dibits could go to sleep.

And after she got all these immense burdens off her tiny little chest, she went to sleep and peace reigned throughout the land.  And being that this is the second time she has had a horrible time sleeping after she’s broken a cup (after the first cup, she was up for two hours in the middle of the night before she told me “did the big girl glass get throwed and broke?”), I think we will be more careful with her cups for a while.