Monday, November 7, 2005

Newt's terrible, horrible, no good, very bad weekend.

Apparently Newt had a terrible, horrible, no-good, very bad weekend with dad.  Never mind that he’s really not to blame here. Well, just let me explain.

Friday night I get phone call #1 from Newt.  She was crying and I almost couldn’t understand her
‘What’s wrong?’

‘Dad pooled my toof!’ (wet washcloth in mouth to stop bleeding explained why I couldn’t understand her)

This is bad news, why?  You knew it was ready to come out.

Yeah, but it ‘POPPED’ when he pulled it. And it hurt, and he made it bleed.

It didn’t bleed much, and you know it always bleeds a little when dad pulls teeth.  Besides, the tooth fairy will bring you money tonight.

Only if sister doesn’t move my tooth and lose it.

(ever the optimist, that one is).

I heard nothing from her all day Saturday, so I am assuming it was not a terrible day. But Sunday came rolling around and so did phone call #2.  Once again she was crying…

What’s wrong?

Dad hurt me.

How did dad hurt you?

He yanked my shirt off, over my head.

Why did that hurt?  You know what? Let me talk to dad.

The gist of the story is this: Newt thought it would be fun to take her shirt off by climbing out of it through the neck hole.  So she took her arms out of her sleeves, and put the through the neck of the shirt and tried to pull the shirt down like a skirt.  Funny thing about bellies and hips. They are somewhat bigger than the neck of a shirt and thus the shirt got stuck.  Back up the body it went and once it got to her arms they had to be stuffed back through the neck of her shirt.  Funny thing about arms and shoulders, they too are bigger than the neck of her shirt.  So with some difficult pulling and tugging by dad, the shirt finally came off. But not without a lot of tears.  

Now, how do you explain to a 6 year old, who is thoroughly put out with her dad, that it really is not in fact his fault that she is hurting.  If she had taken the shirt off correctly the first time all of this could have been avoided?  There is no reasoning with her at this point.
I am at my home, I can not dry the tears, I can’t really do anything but tell her I love her and miss her and I’ll see her tomorrow.  Then chuckle when I hang up the phone.  Hopefully today has been better for her, but if not, I will be there tonight to kiss and hug her and cuddle all the bad-day goobers away.  I will tickle and tease and play and hug and kiss and love her until I find her ever-bright smile again.

Life with Newt is never boring, even on her terrible, horrible, no-good, very bad days.

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