I had a bad day. It started out shaky.Then, I misplaced something I really needed for a project. In the scheme of the day, it was bad. But in the scheme of the week it wasn't horrible. Yet, by noon, this minor setback had turned into an inconvenience the size of Canada. A headache clouded my thinking.
Spiraling down is not new to me. Little naggings become giant blocks. Peace goes out the window quicker than the cat on a sunny day.
I took a break and picked up my granddaughter (formerly known as Pinkie) from school. I handed her a sandwich bag filled with popcorn and she told me I was a mind reader.
She has had some experience with bad days. Last year, at the beginning of a minor tantrum, not-Pinkie screamed to her mother "This is the worst day of my entire career."
When we got in the car, I told not-Pinkie I was having a bad day. "Really?", she asked. She seemed surprised.
"Did you get in trouble?"
I told her it wasn't like that. Things just weren't going well. And now I was frustrated and a little sad.
Silence. Then, with adult-like calm, yesterday's-Pinkie continued.
"Nana, when you're sad put a picture of me somewhere. Then, every time you see it you'll smile."
"Thanks," I said. I was smiling already.
"What works for me when I have a Bad day," she continued, "is I just go to my room for a few minutes."
"I read a book or something. Usually, I'm still mad but I don't get in trouble anymore."
I wondered if that would work for me. But, when a seven year old tries to solve your problems, you realize it's not the end of the world. Even if it feels that way today.
On Saturday, no-longer-Pinkie finished her hated eye drops. She celebrated her 'best day ever' at Target with a bag of popcorn and a frozen drink.
I think I need a corn dog.
What works for you?
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