When the Belt Breaks

So yesterday, things were going fairly smoothly before ECHO, our homeschool co-op. Pants were donned under the dress, without too much fuss and the belt wrapped around those pants, cinched to oblivion, just how she likes it, when the belt broke. Literally snapped. She yanked on it so hard for so many weeks (not to mention it was on it's third child), that it tore right in two.

And that ended the relatively peaceful morning.

I knew we were sunk. No ECHO for her, no relaxing, daughter-free morning. All that stretched before me was stress and baby-fits lasting for hours. And all that without a dose of caffeine big enough to process it all.

After dressing her, we loaded her screaming, writhing body into the car. Crossing our fingers despite the sinking feeling in the pit of our guts, telling us, "there is no way in you know what this is going to work." But we forced it because one of the lessons we are trying to teach all of our kids, is that if you say you're going to do something, you follow through. It's that simple.

We made it to ECHO. She walked into the building, without a belt cinching the top of her leggings {oh the horror}, used the bathroom. And after a slight detour, we got her to her first class. She willingly walked in {after being carried there}, let me hug and kiss her good-bye, and joined her classmates.

Once we got back home, she announced that she no longer needed a belt for her leggings. That when they felt loose, she had discovered that she could just pull them up. Like that. I have been teary thinking about it ever since. She did it!!!

She needed that belt to break. I just didn't know it.