"What are you a marshmallow?" I yelled at my five year old. Then I realized...oh no! I have just turned into my father!
But you know what, I GET IT NOW! My children aren't marshmallows, and I don't want them to grow up to become marshmallows. The fact is, a little tough skin is necessary.
"That mother's looking for you," a friend informed me. She pointed towards the playground to a mother fussing over her child.
"Why?" I asked sarcastically.
"She wanted to tell you that Amaya wouldn't play with her daughter," she relayed the message.
"Well good thing she talked to you and not me," I teased. I had a feeling that the overbearing mother wouldn't of appreciated my take on the situation.
Kids have to learn to solve their own problems, and fight their own battles. Mommy can't always be there to do it for them. What will they do in the playground of adult life.
MELT!
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