The other day my husband experienced our first instance of girl drama. He picked up Hailey from school and asked about her day. "Dylan said she didn't like me anymore and wasn't going to be my friend." He probed a bit further, tried to encourage, then passed the situation on to me later in the day.
So I asked, "Why did she say that?" "I don't know. There was no reason," Hailey claimed, "She just doesn't want to be my friend." I held back my motherly instinct which screamed, "Let me at her," and calmly suggested we pray together. Hailey agreed; so we sat on my fairly clean bathroom floor and I prayed over her and the situation.
The next day Dylan said hello to her in the parking lot. Hailey looked up at me with her big brown eyes and said, "I thought she was going to be mean to me today." Ouch, my heart. After saying a word to her teacher, "If Dylan says that again just take her down," I left my perfect baby girl for another day at preschool. (Seriously, I am so far from delusional. I am certain she has or definitely will play her own part in hurting many feelings along the way. How you couldn't pay me to go back to childhood.)
When I picked her up from school I asked about her day. "Mommy, it was so good," she said with a hop in her step, "Dylan was nice to me. She was my friend. It was better than 25." Better than 25. Not sure of her scale but it sounded pretty good.
"Sounds like God answered your prayer."
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