Yes, I was mad at my four-year-old daughter. Yes, four is miraculously easier than 3 or 2 or 1. But we are embarking upon a real rebel for independent thinking stage. She was crying because she wanted to rinse her teeth in one fashion and I wanted her to do it in another. So I launched into my “…children in the world cry for a lot of good reasons and this is not one of them…” speech. Which just morphed into sobs.
The sobs continued and she went to find sympathy with her (push over) father. But no, Dad backed me on the issue. A few minutes later I heard the now muffled sobs but I couldn’t place they were coming from. I went into the kitchen for a glass of water and there she was, on the lap of our babá softly sobbing into her chest, the babá stroking her hair.
And that was OK. When we are visiting my parents, it is usually her grandmother who she finds comfort with if we are mad. If she wants to seek sympathy with the other adult in the house partial to her happiness, I’m fine with it. So on Day 117 of my challenge to be more Brazilian, I accepted this woman as the next line of defense for our daughter when it comes to comfort.