"Jacob loves bubbles!" she declared. "Can I blow my new bubbles for him?"
She's such a sweet girl. She hates to see anyone sad, and will do almost anything to make them happy. And I wanted desperately to let her fix this situation. But she's also a perfectionist, and little can cause more distress for her than failing at something. And to date, she's never been able to figure out how to make that little bubble wand work.
If she succeeded, I'd have two happy kids on my hands. If she failed, I'd still have a screaming baby, and would have to spend the next half hour helping a crying four-year-old work through her disappointment.
I said nothing. She saw through my silence.
"I can do it, Mommy! I really, really want to blow bubbles and make Jacob laugh, and I really can do it!" Her confidence won me over. I gave my consent, handed over the bubbles, and sent her outside. I positioned Jacob by the front door so he could watch, and I waited. I prayed God would grant her the success she so desired.
She huffed and she puffed. Suds dripped from the bubble wand and down her arm. Soapy liquid spewed everywhere with each blow. I braced for the worst.
And then it happened. She blew one awesome bubble. It detached from the bubble wand, and the wind carried it up and away. She smiled, first at the bubble, then at me. My heart swelled with joy for her. She kept going, and more bubbles filled the air.
And then, in a moment that reminded me she's totally my daughter, she took a break from the bubbles and looked me straight in the eye.
"See Mom," she said, "I told you so."
I'm so glad you did, Abby.
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