More than Enough, Lies
The other night my 11-year-old knocked over my glass I’d put on the floor next to the sofa where I was sitting. She didn’t see the glass, and most of its contents spilled out on the floor. I was frustrated, even exasperated.
There was no yelling, no shaming, no telling her to be more careful. It was all okay.
Until my dear girl spoke the words, “I hate myself.”