Lions, Tigers and Tears

This post is part of a series where I unpack the wise words of a friend and mentor. You can read more about those words here.

A few weekends ago, my mom and niece were visiting for my birthday. A week before they arrived, I asked AE, “What do you want to do with Nana and Coco this weekend?”

She didn’t hesitate at all, “Go to the zoo!!”

As we anticipated their arrival, we talked extensively about our impending trip to the zoo. We made animal sounds and sang songs about the zoo. We were excited!

When Saturday morning finally arrived, we all loaded into the car for the 25 – 30 minute drive to the zoo. We were three miles away from our destination, when the traffic came to a screeching halt.

After inching along for about 20 minutes, I finally saw the sign, “Marathon today. Expect Delays.” I spent another half hour trying in vain to find an alternate route. Finally, I called my husband who was at home, and begged him to go online and find a way for us to get to the zoo.

About two hours after leaving the house, we passed through the entrance to the zoo. Our excitement had reached a fevered pitch. We could even see some animals from the road. “We’re finally here, AE” I assured her from the front seat.

Those words had barely escaped my lips when we yet again hit a major traffic jam. It took about 20 minutes more to discover that the parking lots were full!

As we left the zoo, AE and I were both in tears. My niece tried desperately to calm AE in the back seat, but her tears quickly turned to heart-wrenching sobs. Mine soon followed.

Part of me wanted to shout from the front seat, “What do you want me to do? This is out of my control! Stop crying!” But, then I heard that still, small voice, “Deal with your own sadness in such a way that enables you to be in the presence of someone else’s sadness without needing to push it away.”

I pulled onto one of the residential streets that neighbors our zoo, and pulled the car over (ignoring the fire hydrant I was blocking). I left the keys in the ignition and my mom and niece in the car. I took AE out of her carseat and pulled her close as I walked in circles.

I gently stroked her back as I spoke through my own tears, “I’m so sad. I really wanted to go to the zoo with you today. There is no parking though, so we can’t go. I’m so sorry.”

Her sobbing slowed enough for her to say, “I’m so sad.” “Me, too, honey, me, too.” We walked and snuggled (and cried) talking about how sad we were for about five minutes.

Then I asked, “What should we do?” “Go home and go to the playground,” she replied. As I put her in her carseat, I wiped away the tears that stained her cheek. She smiled as she looked over at her cousin and talked about our visit to the playground.

Despite spending three hours in the car that morning only to arrive at the playground in our own neighborhood, we managed to have a really fun day. As I was putting her to bed that night I asked, “What was your favorite part of today?”

My heart almost exploded when she replied, “When you held me on the sidewalk by the zoo when I sad.”

Epilogue: The picture of AE checking out elephants above was taken when we finally made it to the zoo the following week! 

I’d love to hear what you think! Tell me about a time you were present with your child’s emotions and how it worked out for you!