Taking full responsibility

This morning I was lifting a sweater off a kitchen chair, and knocked a glass to the floor and broke it. My son called out in Swedish from the bedroom, “I’m sorry!” I said, “No, I broke it, it’s not your fault.” Then he was standing next to me there in the kitchen, saying, “No, both of us! Both!” I let him take the blame along with me. It was easier that way.

At preschool I lifted him out of his stroller, and he was immediately surrounded by three boys who pulled him into a huddle and clapped him on the back like he had just scored a goal. Then these  munchins in snowsuits ran off for the far side of the playground, their faces smiling and arms flapping.

Spring is here today. Spring in Sweden comes like an abusive spouse bearing chocolates and roses. I cower at all this sunshine, wanting to be glad for it, but not trusting it. This Swedish part of my brain, this part I do not want, tells me that by the time I finally do start trusting the weather, in July or August, it will change on me again. Today I will try to find my inner Californian, the one so sure about the sun. He’s much better to be around.


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2 Responses to “Taking full responsibility”

  1. Ginny Says:

    I was just letting myself be happy about the melting snow here, yesterday. And then I caught myself worrying about all the mud and slush. And then the inevitable heat waves. Am I ever happy? No, no I’m not. Maybe I’m Swedish, after all?

  2. mollyschoemann Says:

    Oh man, Boston Spring happened the same way. Boston was all, “I know you’ve been HATING ME for the last eight months, but hey, look! Now I’m all warm and pretty and why were we ever fighting?! Aren’t I great!” and then you’re all in love with Boston from May-June and then July is insanely hot and you hate each other again.

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