My 2 1/2 year old daughter has the unique ability to make me angry and hysterical at the same time. There’s is nothing like trying to be firm and authoritative with a wide-eyed, witty toddler interjecting commentary that makes it impossible to stay mad, let alone keep a straight face.
Yesterday my daughter, who has been potty training for the past few months, intentionally wet her pants. Mommy wasn’t happy. I knew she needed to go and yet she stubbornly stuck her chin in the air and informed me she did not. A minute later her jeans looked like she sat on a sprinkler. I angrily hauled her into the bathroom, sat her on the thrown and began my lecture of why it is important to be honest with mommy and not dirty her pants. She sat there staring at my flushed cheeks without an ounce of concern. Her eyes sparkled at my entertaining performance of The Taming of the Shrew. When I paused to ask if she understood, she nodded yes and quickly asked “mommy, are you saaaaaaaad?….are you going to cryyyyyyyy?” She wasn’t worried about my frail disposition. She was clearly enjoying her mother’s weak grasp on sanity and was excited at the prospect of an emotional climax to it all. Turkey. I wanted to throttle her and burst out laughing at exactly the same moment. I stood there as my lip quivered through a suppressed giggle. No way was I going to let her see me laugh.
That experience made me wonder why it’s easy for me to mix laughter and anger with my children, but not with anyone else. If a grown stranger, friend or family member had pulled the same stunt I would have been even angrier. Somehow my child’s enjoyment of my angst softens instead of hardens. Perhaps it’s because I know she isn’t being malicious, she’s just being 2. Still, it would be a lot easier to navigate life if those who make us genuinely angry were capable of giving us a hardy chuckle at the same time. Quivering with giggles is much better than quivering with rage.
