Maybe it was the four shots at her 4-year well-child checkup.
Maybe it was the understanding that we couldn’t go to the big park today.
Maybe it was the fact that James, with his ladybug ride-on toy, accidentally ran over her pink stick-to-the-wall-when-you-fling-it starfish that she picked out from the pediatrician’s treasure box after her four shots. And now the starfish, tragically, is missing an arm (and won’t be growing it back anytime soon, I’m afraid).
But everything is upsetting Sophie today.
Like, the sudden realization that she still can’t whistle. There was pitiful blowing and then sobbing as she said, “Mommy! I still can’t whistle! Why? Why can’t I whistle?”
And now the arrangement of the leaves on the tops of her strawberries just set her off. (I’m not making this up.)
“Sophie, why are you having such a bad day?” I ask.
“Because my toy broke and I got shots and it hurts when I walk,” she says. “Can we go to the park after dinner?”
And so it continues.
“Mama said there’ll be days like this,
There’ll be days like this Mama said.” —Willie Denson