On Friday after school, my little guy and his brother were playing with the neighbours when I heard crying. I hurried outside to find that one of the other boys had fallen and hurt his knee. As I checked it out I heard more crying from around the corner in the driveway.
That one was mine.
When he saw his friend crying, he started to cry. He just couldn’t help himself. He came into the house, still sobbing, and crawled up onto my husband’s knee wanting to talk about it. “I don’t know wh-wh-why I’m crying. I ju-ju-just feel like cr-crying. Wh-when I saw him cr-crying, I wanted to cry too.” He then punctuated it with a huge shuttering yawn.
I had to leave the room in the middle of this because I started laughing. He was just so darn earnest as he sat with tears streaking down his filthy face. Logically, he knew there was no reason to cry but fatigue had got the best of him.
Tonight I managed to keep a straight face in a similar situation. My husband and the boys had an overnight Beavers camp this weekend and it had been a late night. As I helped my youngest get ready for bed after his bath, he started crying because he “missed camp.” It was very sweet. This had been his first Beavers camp and he had a mind-blowing time. He calmed down after I explained that nobody was at camp tonight, everyone was home getting ready to go bed. Again, he felt better after he had released some of his exhaustion.
It might sound like it, but my little guy is not a crybaby. He will take a hit during a driveway hockey game and bounce back up with a hearty, “I’m okay.” The kid has even had stitches without crying.
It’s just that sometimes when you’re six and really, really tired, it feels good to have a cry.