The Girl Who Cried Wolf

As Mothers, we have plenty of opportunities to feel guilt. I have read several accounts on blogs recently, so I thought I would share one of mine. My littlest angel has a heartbreaking cry, and you know when she is upset. However, you can never really tell WHAT she is upset about. The cry doesn't vary much and it remains the same whether she fell off the couch and cracked her head on the floor or she can't seem to get her baby wrapped up in her blanket the right way. I have answered many a cry expecting to find a broken bone and instead I see a frustrated child trying to stack blocks. I love my little girl, but I don't really want to encourage this type of Diva behavior. I would like her to reserve her exhuberant wails for serious occasions, so I can distinguish how fast I need to make an appearance.
I admit that I have become lax in answering the call of despair in my youngest. So on Sunday as I was talking to Tyler, it wasn't much of a surprise to hear Ivory start caterwauling about something. Neither of us moved at first, and finally I sauntered off the bed and said, "I'll check and see what the drama is." Well, there she was with her poor fingers stuck in the lid of the piano. She must have decided to close it by herself and didn't extract fingers quickly enough. I rushed right over, took care of the problem and hugged her until all tears were extinguished. I did feel really bad about her poor fingers, but at the same time, I wish she were five years older so I could tell her a story about a little boy who cried wolf and why no one came to the rescue. In the meantime, I guess I will just keep checking in on her amidst her woes. I'm not brave or stupid enough to ignore her completely, but I am sure that most of my efforts will be to salvage her frustration and not her fingers.