Grieving

Yesterday was the last day of work for our local Starbucks manager and favorite maker-of-Starbucks-coffee-drinks. (Karen, should you ever come across this blog, that's you.) Every week when we go get groceries, Laura and I either get a coffee or at least stop and say hi to her.

Knowing it was her last day before she moves, we made a card for her. Laura asked if she could give it to her herself. The manager lady (because that's how I usually refer to her when I'm telling Chad something about my Starbucks experiences) came out from behind the counter and gave us both a hug. It was one of those strange moments in life where you realize someone means a surprising amount to you, and possibly vice versa, even though you know absolutely nothing about them other than what their job is or how they like their coffee.

Anyway, we went on to get our groceries, then stopped back by the Starbucks counter to get coffee before we left and to tell her bye. I assumed this was the end of the story.

But last night on the way home from Pella, Laura got upset about getting in trouble and she starts crying. Then she starts in about me being mean to her three times that day. One was me spanking her (a given that she's upset about that one since it just happened), another was about "that manager lady leaving", and the last was about her having to throw away her favorite bracelet.

Let's take a moment to look at these three things:
--One. I was mean to her because I had Chad stop the van and I spanked her for not sitting in her carseat correctly after numerous reminders to sit the right way. Understandable that she's upset.
--Two. She's crying about the Starbucks manager leaving. Really? She's four. I know she likes coffee, and I know this lady was really nice to her. But really? I assume it's just too close to bedtime with an empty tummy since we haven't had supper yet.
--Three. She had to throw her favorite bracelet away. The one she made out of ribbon and glitter crayons and gluestick. The one she'd had on for 24 hours. But, she's four, and it was colorful and sparkly, and she made it herself. So I supposed I understand she's upset. But mostly I still think she's just tired.

She continued crying on and off the rest of the way home about these three things. I reclined my seat so I could hold her hand while she cried.

A while later we get home, we have a quick supper, and I'm tucking Laura in to bed. "Mommy, I still have some cries left," she says.
"Ok, go ahead and cry. It's ok."
"It's about one thing but kind of two," she sniffles to me.
"What two things?"
"The Starbucks manager and the bracelet." Then she starts full-out crying again. Sobbing the cries of pure heartbreak. "That the manager lady left! She made me hot chocolate! And she made it the BEST!"

My daughter is heartbroken because the manager of our Hy-Vee Starbucks is moving. And the only way I knew to console her was to hug her and hold her hand and tell her we could have a family hot chocolate break in the morning.

That other tomorrow

Heading to the Fareway checkout this morning ...

Laura: Mommy! Go back! Back up a little bit!
[Mommy backs up the cart.]
Laura: There!
Mommy: The CheezIts?
Laura: Yeah! That's preschool snack tomorrow!
Mommy: But tomorrow's Saturday. You don't have preschool.
Laura: [exasperated sigh] Not that tomorrow; the backwards tomorrow!
Mommy: You mean yesterday?
Laura: Yes!