You are only as happy as your child is on any given day.  And your child’s fears and sadnesses are like daggers in your heart.  My mother would say things like this and I totally get it. 

My son is now 7 and he has to manage social interactions and other activities which are not his strengths.  And he has to do so beyond our reach and ability to facilitate the situations.  And he needs to do this without us because he has to learn and grow and all that.  I know, I know, I know, I know.  I also know that I want to protect my little boy from all of life’s hurts from little boo-boos to real bona fide problems.  I totally get why his imaginary worlds are way easier.  If I were the least bit creative, I would really have grooved on imaginary worlds.

Last night he was so sad about having to do a performance at camp today.  It was the entirety of his world and it was heartbreaking.  I could tell him and tell him again that he should trust me that everything was going to be ok, that I know these things, that I am not letting anything bad happen.  I could just hear his dread and feel his sadness and self-doubt.  Finally, after a story, he fell asleep.

My partner and I internalized all his sadness, were grumpy until we went to sleep and both slept fitfully.  At drop-off this morning, she promised him french fries with dinner.  She called the camp today and spoke with the director.  She checked on him and he was doing fine.  We are tired, over-wrought, wrecks. He gets french fries tonight for being a trooper.  I need a quart of Cherry Garcia.  And a quart of New York Super Chunk Fudge.  And maybe a french fry or six. 

The good news is that we all survived the day at camp.  I think my partner and I are more the worse for wear.  My son — he’s fine.