The Long Thank You

My daughter came into our bedroom this morning doing that scream crying that indicates there is a mixture of insult and injury going on.   Her brother had slapped her on her shoulders (which are still bad with scabs and peeling skin from the sunburn close from two weeks ago tomorrow. 

When consequences were being doled out (writing apology letters to each other of a specific length) my daughter did an impressive amount of talking back, complaining, insulting me, and playing a martyred victim.   It went on for so long that the consequence turned into two, adding an apology letter to me as well.   That was compounded for at least a half-hour, ending up with my daughter finally stomping off and admitting defeat after neither my husband nor I bought her complaints that she didn't know what to do or what we were talking about.   She had a full five pages to write to me to explain her behavior. 

She is in third grade.  She's socially behind in many ways because she can't see other children play and missed out on many social queues.   But she understands more than she lets on.  A half-hour later she came downstairs and read to me her apology which was by this time not only for the morning's behavior but for the prior night's rudeness at the dinner table with my parents.  Here's what she wrote:

Dear M,

I’m sorry for embarrassing you in front of your parents. I don’t know how you feel.  I’m sorry for hurting your feelings so badly.  I shouldn’t have complained, even though my butt was hurting from sitting so long.  I love you and I’m sorry.  Do you still love me too.  I don’t understand life. I can be harsh when I want to and when I don’t want too either. You are the best mom ever, but sometimes we don’t get along.  I did many things that I shouldn’t have done being angry at you this morning.   I admit I was trying to bluff my way out of punishment, but I didn’t understand.  Now I do. This is what happens, my anger boils and rims my vision with red.  Though now I don’t let my anger build over and I scream and sometimes I’m so angry I’m calm.  I need to remember angry ball.  He will protect me in any way he can.  I shouldn’t have done any of it.   I did and I am sorry about it.  Do you still love me?  I understand if you don’t, but I do.   I will use Angry Ball more often.   He will help very much.  I need to work with Dhruti on this to keep Angry Balls, anger from boiling over.   I’ll try harder and I’ll do my best.  I love you Mom, but I can’t do everything.  So will you help me?  I have some ideas.   I will count to ten, or take deep breath’s.   If I may, I can be excused to get Angry Ball when I need him.  I can talk to Angry Ball and have my anger under control.  I need to keep my anger under control or I will start to be controlled by it.   I can think happy thoughts and talk to Angry Ball in my head, but I will succeed,  I know I can with your help.   Soothing music and noises will help too.   I can do it, I know I can.  Do you agree?   It will also help if I busy myself with things so I’m distracted.  Soon enough I will be under control of my anger for good.  We can fix our mistakes I create to help with anger problems.  We can make anger control exercises and create toys out of things to help too.    When we make the Bazooka, that can help too.  I can imagine that when the air puffs out, my anger is blasted away.   I hope I can do this.  Will you also help to control my anger, because this is going to be difficult for us.  You don’t have to help, but it would lift some of the weight off my shoulders, 

Love, RWB

I assured her I loved her and would always love her no matter what.   Then I addressed all the points in her letter and told her how much I appreciated the note and why I thought what she had written was so insightful.  She had explained how she felt, why she did what she did and how she could improve in the future.  I told her I'd like to work on the same things and maybe we could get a squishy ball for me and she could teach me what Dhruti had taught her on how to deal with big emotions.   She said she wanted to teach me and ran off to find another squishy ball I could use. 

The Big Boy Update:  My son had to write a one-page letter to his sister and one to his father.  He had a much harder time getting around to completing the assignment and is just coming to deliver the notes to me now after his sister has fallen asleep for the night. 

The Tiny Girl Chronicles: My daughter told me her numbers have colors in her mind. Very specific ones at that. In her words, "Zero is dark, springy green; One is olive green; two is a light, airy green; three is a dark like red;  four is a deep, dark blue; five is a brilliant, bright orange, like a sunset or maybe a little lighter; six is a very light black that’s so light that’s it’s like a purple-black; seven is neon yellow; eight is dark purple; nine is a light, warm chocolate brown; ten is green for the one and instead of the zero being springy green, it’s white; eleven is a light, light purple for the ones instead of their normal green; twelve is the normal color for one, but the two is like a chocolate bar brown; twenty has a white two with a green tinge and the zero is normal; sixty has the normal zero color but the six is a darker version of purple-black;  100 has the normal ones but the zeros are brown; 1000 has lighter green for zeros; and one million has a normal one but the zeros are scenery green."