We are getting ready to leave.
It’s 7:30 a.m. and we are starting the ritual of negotiating what Swee’Pea and TheMonk can take with them to daycare. TheMonk finds his Lightning McQueen car, his stuffed Monkey and his Thomas the Train backpack and he’s ready to go.
Swee’Pea wants to take all 100 pieces of her plastic food and stuff it in her Dora backpack. I discourage this, however, and convince her to pick out four of her favorites to take with her. Swee’Pea chooses a hamburger bun, celery, a pineapple and…
She can’t find what’s she’s looking for. She begins throwing the toys over her shoulder as she rummages through the massive box that holds her food. I dodge a carrot, two french fries and a cucumber before I ask her what she’s looking for.
“I can’t find my cheese!” she replies with anguish dripping from every syllable. “MY CHEESE! I CAN’T FIND MY CHEESE!”
She continues to frantically rifle through her food until I stop her. “Swee’Pea,” I asked, “Would you like Daddy to help you?”
This seems to make sense to her. She looks up at me, smiles and laughs out loud – seemingly aware of how silly she must look. “Yes!” she laughs.
I push aside the other hamburger bun, look under a tomato and find… a piece of yellow cheese. I hand to her as she squeals with delight. She grabs it and puts it in her Dora backpack. We stand up and I reach out to hold her hand to begin walking to the garage.
“Daddy, you found my cheese.” Swee’Pea tells me.
“Yes, Swee’Pea. I found your cheese.” I reply “But we’re gonna have to work on how you deal with change.”
“Okay, Daddy.” she says as we head out the door to face another day.
(If you don’t read management books religiously like I do, you can find out more about the book “Who Moved My Cheese” by clicking here.)
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