As I was waiting for the end of Shortcake's ten minute sobfest during dinner tonight - triggered by the fact that her sister got the Care Bear cup that Shortcake apparently wanted with the passion rivaling that of college students celebrating St. Patrick's Day - I was once again reminded that The General and I are in for a very long period of parenthood known as puberty here in the not so distant future. I like to remind The General at every opportunity that he has absolutely no idea what he's going to be facing in about eight years as hormones surge through this house at lightning speed and had he been dining with us tonight I would have used Shortcake's emotional meltdown as evidence to demonstrate this fact yet again.
After the tears and hiccuping finally subsided and order was restored, I sat reflecting on a very interesting fact. That little emotional breakdown of Shortcake is not any different than those I can remembering experience as a youngster (and, admittedly, every now and again as an adult as well). It usually played out like this: I'd have a full day of putting forth a best effort at school, once home I'd work to keep it together when faced with a pesky younger sibling, then exhaustion would finally get the best of me resulting in the smallest of situations setting me over the edge into the abyss of near delirium. A good, solid cry over something my loved ones usually deemed trivial (tripping over a bag of potatoes, as an example) and then all was right with the world again. Amazing how life repeats itself, isn't it?
God help us all.