Children can be Ridiculous

The other night I was lying in bed with Emmy, singing her a lullabye, when halfway through, she stopped me to ask if I could find something to put over her body so that when I was gone, she'd be able to imagine it was my arm around her.  A sweet thought. 

I suggested a spice bag - a 5 lb bag of rice and spices that we heat up in the microwave.  She didn't like that idea.  It didn't remind her enough of an arm.  She didn't like the idea of a blanket rolled up either.  No, she needed something that would be like an arm.  And what is like an arm, you ask?  You are probably as puzzled as I was.  Suddenly she had a brilliant idea:  Daddy's tattoo sleeve! Matt has these sleeves like nylons with tattoos printed on them that he likes to wear whenever he has to dress in costume. This would be the perfect thing to remind Emmy of my arm.  Hmmm. . .

I was in no mood to search the house over for a tattoo sleeve. Already our conversation on the subject had taken much longer than it should have.  I told her "no" and left the room.  The next thing I know, she is in bed, bawling, and singing in a pitiful voice, "no one loves me!"  I heard her door open and close.  She'd placed a note on the floor which read, "No one loves me, not even you." 

All because I wouldn't let her sleep with a tattoo sleeve.  Absolutely ridiculous.

Thankfully, clarity came in the morning. At breakfast, I said, "Emmy, now I am confused about something.  When you think of my arm, do you like to imagine tattoos all over it?"  When put in those terms, she could finally see how crazy she was, and she laughed out loud at the thought.