Have you ever had a day where, when you left your toddler with someone so that you could run and do a critically important thing outside the house, they decided to channel a tornado instead of a sweet little cherub? We had such a day. A day that ends with parents returning home and wishing for a moment that they could turn right around and leave again. Let me rephrase that- I can't speak for my husband, the father of this child. I can only say that my first instinct was to turn on my heel and disavow any and all knowledge of this child.

But I do love her, and I am a good parent, and I will admit that I knew something like this was imminent. I picked up the mess and tried to get the rest of the house into something like order. I changed her into a clean nightgown and convinced her to eat part of a half of a peanut butter sandwich. She drank a few sips of chocolate milk. Eventually, she suffered me to hold her and I informed her that she was going to sleep and when she wakes up tomorrow she will turn into a mild-mannered and polite child again.

I wish.

So many things I wish tonight. I wish that she did not have these mild delays and sensory issues, as well as a resistance to napping and resting during the day that leads inevitably to a meltdown of epic proportions. She's going to be three in only a few short months. Isn't she supposed to be talking in sentences now, and potty-training, and doing more to communicate her needs and desires than this incessant eh-eh-eh sound coupled with a smattering of real words? Isn't she supposed to follow directions more consistently than not?

I need to be more grateful for small things. Like, she's not sick. Like, this is a language/communication delay and she's in treatment for it. Like, this is just a really horrible day for us. It will pass.

In the meantime, I think I need a hug.