Sometimes accidents happen. Both parents and children have them. Right as the last school year ended I prepared Cydney’s box of spare clothes in case she has an “accident.” She’s four so there’s a good possibility that she could hold on for too long or be a little too deep in her sleep at nap time. I put one of her old uniforms, a pair of tights, and a shirt in there. It completely slipped my mind to think of underwear.
Yesterday I get home from work and Cydney is doing homework with my mother. I notice that her uniform is shorter, so she must have had an accident. My mother tells Cydney to inform me about what happened today. She tells me that she had an accident during nap time (Damn I know my kid!) and my mother wants her to tell me why she was wearing a pull-up instead of underwear.
Cydney reluctantly says “Because you forgot to pack me underwear.” I wasn’t feeling the moment because the insinuation was obvious and didn’t need to be stated once I was informed about the pull-up. I hate that passive aggressive shit.
Cyd turns the moment around and says “My teacher says you’re trying.” With the sweetest and most understanding face she looked at me and said “You’re trying, Daddy,” and gave me a big hug around my leg. That moment meant everything. We both had a little accident and neither one of us wanted to feel bad about them.
Words are everything to me. Very seldom am I validated verbally. It’s not something that I’m starved for; but that is the way that I primarily show and receive love.