It was the middle of the night, about 1:30, when B came downstairs to our bedroom. She was sobbing. She managed to choke out that she left Sissy’s prized Adidas jacket at school…on a bench, she thought…and she didn’t bring it home.
I told her not to worry, that we’d figure it out on Monday. “I’ll email Mrs. M,” I told her, and she will try to help you find it.
That temporarily settled her down, and she padded back upstairs.
It wasn’t five minutes before she was back. “I don’t know what I’m going to do, Mommy,” she sobbed. “It doesn’t have my name in it, and they give jackets without names to people who need them.”
I reassured her we’d do our best to track down the jacket on Monday.
“But I just can’t sleep,” she cried. “I’m so worried.”
I held her in my lap at the kitchen table. She finally settled her sleepy body into mine, her long hair cascading over my arm. I could feel her eventually relax, her sobbing turn into deep breaths, which finally turned to calm.
I cherished those moments.
Certainly a part of me was aggravated that she’d left her jacket unattended. I worried, too, knowing that is one of A’s prized possessions. (I was a little surprised A had let B wear it last week.) And while it was agonizing to see B so upset, I was kinda proud, too…proud of her conscience…proud of her worry over making things right.
And of course, in that moment, I was so thankful to know that a cuddle from Mommy could quiet the fears and ease my baby back to sleep.