The following is a fictional story based on true accounts. Situations happen like this all across the world, probably each and every day. It’s common, however . . .
Sheryl climbed the steps lugging the wash basket filled with little girl’s clothing, a week’s worth of vacation laundry, finally washed and neatly folded. She was glad to be home and smiled as she heard giggles from her daughter’s room. It was a good move, inviting Emily’s neighborhood friend, Jason, over for a play date, she had gotten the laundry nearly completed without interruption. A good day.
She pushed Emily’s bedroom door open with her foot, “Hey guys, do want a . . . snack?” Her heart pounded. The laundry basket fell to the floor. “Pull your pants up. What are you two doing? You can’t do that! Jason, get your jacket. Go home. Now!”
Emily had never seen anything like that. She giggled. Jason had never seen anything like that either. He giggled because Emily giggled, although he didn’t see what was quite so funny.
Kids will be kids and their curiosity won’t kill them, but it might kill their moms’—especially if their mothers’ are survivors. And that’s understandable. Because deep within a survivors heart there is a resolute determination that what happened to them, will never happen to their child, not on their watch, not in their lifetime. Their child will never feel the hurt; their child will never know the shame.
Sheryl locked herself in the master bathroom; her cell phone trembled in her hand. “You don’t understand,” she said.
“Yes, I think I do,” her husband said.
“No, you don’t,” she wiped the tears with the back of her hand as she sank to the floor.
Silence. Then finally, “You’re right, I don’t. I can’t. But I do know this—kids experiment. Kids play doctor. Where is Emily now?”
“She’s in her bedroom. The look on her face . . . I’ll never forget it.” Sheryl closed her eyes. “What have I done?”
“You reacted the only way you knew how. You’re human.”
“What do I do now?”
“You do what you and I both do when we get it wrong. Apologize. Tell Emily that you understand that she and Jason were curious, and that you’re happy to answer any questions she has about boys and how they’re made. Remind her that her private parts are private.You’ll get through it. And, Sheryl . . . you’re a great mom.”
Sheryl took a common situation and gave an uncommon blessing. She apologized to her daughter and began to build a bridge of communication with Emily that would strengthen through the surge of a lifetime.
And to “Sheryl” and all the women like her—you are good mothers.
Image'>http://www.freedigitalphotos.net/images/view_photog.php?photogid=2588">Image: Phaitoon / FreeDigitalPhotos.net