When Delaney (my 14 year old) came downstairs this morning, she was grumbling and fuming. Soccer pre-season began this week. So after a summer of sleeping-in, she’s getting up before 7am. Let’s just say she’s been a little tired in the mornings. I don’t know about your family, but when the members of my little clan are tired we tend to be a tad grumpy. Even cranky. Bristly, perhaps. Irritable. Plain Old Angry. I’ve learned to give my girls a little space when they’re feeling this way. That’s a little piece of wisdom that didn’t come readily or easily to me. Because I like to talk things out. Get to the bottom of things. Solve problems. Trouble shoot. That’s usually a pretty good thing. But on these grumpy mornings my little interventions seem only to fuel the fires. And sometimes we’d end up in an argument. It took a while, but eventually I figured that out. So while she ranted and fumed, I just made breakfast. And kept my mouth shut. Looking up from time to time and nodding to let her know I was listening. But generally staying out of the way.
While she was sitting across from me sipping her smoothie she grinned and said, “Guess I’m wearing my grumpy pants today and I’ve got ’em cinched up really tight.”
The storm had passed and the sun was peeking out. I just love that kid. Even when she’s wearing her grumpy pants.