Tears

Every day so far this week, I have hoped to make it out the door to school without at least one kid crying.  So far, no good, with double the fun on Tuesday when BOTH kids were wailing as we headed out to the car. 

Today looked pretty promising, as I loaded a happy Madeleine into her stroller while an exuberant Julia ran to shut the back door, excited for a walk to school in balmy, unseasonable weather.

We were soooo close.  We really were.  But then Julia, in her bouncing run down the driveway, wiped out and scraped the palms of her hands.  Next thing I knew, she was sobbing into my waist with both arms clutched around me as tightly as possible. 

I'm at least grateful that she was able to recover pretty quickly, and as we began our walk towards school, her mood elevated once again.  Anxious to hide the evidence of her melt-down, she turned to me and asked, "Mama?  Do I still have any tears in my eyes?"

After I assured her that there was not a trace of tears, she suddenly decided to wax poetical on the subject of tears.  "Mama?" she asked, a dreamy expression on her face.  "Are tears like LITTLE RAINDROPS that pour out of the CLOUDS OF YOUR EYES?"

Woah.  Heavy.

That got her onto the whole topic of water droplets in general.

JULIA: Well, teardrops and raindrops LOOK the same.  Well, I mean, how come you DRAW them the same way, but they DON'T really look the same because raindrops are just really LINES?
ME: Well, ALL droplets of water look the same, no matter where the water comes from.  That's why a tear drop and a single raindrop and a droplet of water melting from an ice cube will all look alike, even if they're not coming from the same source.
JULIA: Yeah, or, like WATER from a SPRINKLER, or like, water from a SHOWER.
ME: Exactly.
JULIA: (beginning to jog along the sidewalk)  Boy, Mama, this is REALLY GOOD EXERCISE!

And with that, we were off the topic of tears, and thankfully were not RE-INTRODUCED to the topic by another running wipe-out.  This time Julia managed to keep her balance all the way to school.

On our walk home, Madeleine asked to be released from the stroller part-way home, so she wound up jogging along the sidewalk beside me for the last quarter mile or so.  And wouldn't you know it, but of course SHE then wiped out.  More tears.  More hugs issued.  Everyone needs to stop falling down.

Once Madeleine had recovered, she resumed her heavy-footed jog, causing me to practically ram into her when she suddenly and without warning stopped short just ahead of me.

ME: Woah!  Careful, Madeleine!  What's the matter?  Why did you stop?
MADELEINE: (huffing and puffing) I just stopped because I'm so, so tired!

She decided she was no longer so, so tired about three seconds later, and resumed her jog, only to stop short a few feet ahead with an expression of alarm on her face.

MADELEINE: Uh-oh!  My heart just burped!

I feel for her.  I, myself, hate it when my heart burps.

After a few more stops and starts, we finally arrived at home, and now that we're inside, Madeleine has once again dressed up as a spooky witch. 

Speaking of spooky - this morning, I went and sat beside Madeleine while she was watching tv.  Giving her a kiss, I said, "I love you," to which she croaked, throat full of phlegm, "I love you too."

Even she was taken aback by the sound of her own raspy voice:
MADELEINE: Mommy, I just couldn't talk so well, because I said (switching to a demonic death rattle) "I love you too."

Man, that kid.  Even when she's telling me she loves me she manages to creep me out.