Hollow Tree Ventures parenting humor
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A Moment of Silence

Last night, the unthinkable happened.  Jake came running to me, his face full of misery, clearly only just barely able to hold back the sobs.  He handed me the tablet he just got for Christmas and crumpled onto the couch next to me.

"What happened?" I asked.  There was something that looked like a small, black electronic scar on the screen, and the rest was just gray stripes.

This question was all it took to launch Jake into Full Sob Mode.  He tried to tell me what happened, but it sounded like Ralphie in A Christmas Story telling his mom that an icicle fell off the garage and hit him in the eye - I could barely make out a word of it, and what I could understand didn't seem to make any sense.  Finally he was able to explain that he'd rolled over on it in his bed and heard a crack.  Uh oh.

"I'm so sorry, buddy.  The screen is broken."

Jake was beside himself with grief - he L-O-V-E-D that thing.  And what makes it even more heartbreaking is that he is SO careful with his things.  He keeps all the inserts that come in the packaging.  He keeps all his DS games organized so they never get lost.  He makes sure never to leave his electronics where they might get damaged.  Except this once.

It's a difficult lesson to learn at the age of nine.

I told him those things.  I told him that accidents happen, even sometimes to kids who are normally as responsible with their belongings as adults.  "You can see why I can't let you walk in the street instead of the sidewalk," I offer up, unsure how to console him.  "99.99% of the time nothing bad happens, but it only takes once."  At this point I don't think I was helping anymore.

I left to go Google "miracles" in hopes of finding some magical  touch-screen cure.  When I went back to check on him, he was reading.  "I'm trying to take my mind off it," he said, his eyes still red and swollen.  Zoe, who'd been concerned and by his side this whole time, was reading quietly in his room too, as a show of support.

It was getting late, so I told Zoe to go brush her teeth.  I left the room again, and when I returned I saw Zoe going back into Jake's room.  I peeked around the corner, just in time to see Zoe pat Jake gently on the back as he sprawled prone on his bed, utterly dejected.  Then, in a very grown up little girl voice she said, "I'm so sorry for your loss."

For all the times they fight, for all the get-out-of-my-rooms I hear yelled, for all the she-started-its and stop-touching-me hollered over and over, it just goes to show that (especially in a time of crisis), your sibling can still be your best friend.  These times remind me how grateful I am that they have each other.

As I tucked Zoe in, she said sincerely, "I wish we could get Jake a new tablet."

"Well, it's pretty expensive, like a computer."

"Then we should get him something even better.  And cheaper!"

I told her he already has something better that doesn't cost anything at all - a sister.

I hope you enjoyed yourself while you were here - and I hope you come back! Please share inappropriate giggles with me on Pinterest, Twitter, and Facebook, or subscribe via email so you don't miss a thing!


The Third Partier said...

I'm tabulating the cost of having a sister as we speak, and it's shaping up to cost WAY more than nothing. :/ For instance, I recall having to ride a girls' bike when I was a youngster, as I only had sisters to reap hand-me-downs from. That probably cost me a few "cool" points.

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