How to Apologize to a Two Year Old

My uncombed hair hung over tired eyes going on five hours of sleep while my infant suckled away upon my chest.  Chained to the couch, my inner-being grunted when my two year old cries from the bathroom. He had another accident and of course it was right by the potty. Baby was now crying due to the abrupt cessation of his meal and I was a wind storm of emotions. Stomping into the bathroom, I grabbed his little arms, squeezed them a bit too hard and spoke harshly into his small round face. I pressed his body down to the ground and told him to stay. I saw fear beyond the brown glaze in his eyes and shame instantly made itself comfortable over me.

We as Mommy’s can feel like canisters empty and cracked, unable to refill no matter how often tried. The jar never brims; it just keeps pouring, dripping, and even shattering to the ground at times. I know I am not the only one who has broken to pieces, fallen on my knees, and wept because of this 24hr. job bench-presses over my body demanding more than I can lift. I also know I’m not the only one who has regretted moments like the one I just shared, and it was hard to share. 

Grace, when I didn’t deserve it, gently stroked my arms. Those same arms that were harsh were touched soft.  A wise, friend suggested I say sorry to my two year old. She explained that letting him know I was wrong is where healing would begin. My first born had just turned two, the idea of trying to communicate the depth of this message and the meaning of forgiveness seemed rather impossible. How could I help him grasp the sorrow, regret and wrong I carried? Not only that, but it had been days since the event. Even in my doubt I was willing to try. Attempting the task was also grace.

 Kneeling down to his level, we lock eyes, I recount that moment in a way I so hoped he understood yet so longed to erase. I then say, “Mommy is so sorry.” I say it again, “Mommy is so sorry.” He takes my hand, walks me to the exact bathroom. His round finger points to the bath mat and he says wobbly, “Mommy, you are sorry for right here? Right here, you are sorry Mommy? On my knees again, I confirm, “Yes”! Our eyes glaze with salt-tears and we hug a deep hug, a long hug, a needed forgiving hug. He got it!

My boy cried the day I lost my temper because he was scared and hurt, but now, in this moment he cried because he was understood  and he knew I was wrong, not him. I cried that regretful day because I felt shame, but now, in this moment I cried because I was understood and forgiven.

My boy taught me more than forgiveness. He taught me how I to say sorry at his level. 

 

I am convinced that when a little one is hurt they do not forget. Take them back to the place you are scared to relive. Maybe it’s a room in your home, like mine. Maybe it’s a park or a grocery store or maybe it’s in the car. Help them remember and tell their hearts you were wrong and you are sorry. Afterward, my friend, swim weightless in the grace gift forgiveness so kindly offers by Him who loves His children boundlessly. Keep doing it and one day your child will take you by the hand and say they are sorry for how they have wronged you. My boy, now six, has done this! 

Warmly with you, 

Emily