Last night my son had a nightmare.
His Grammy got the coronavirus because he went over to her house and “infected her.” Ugh – my heart broke for him when he told me about it this morning in tears.
He’s 8, and a boy – and I never really know how much he’s grasping when we talk about anything related to emotions. Even though I want to say, “Do you understand how scary all of this is?” I don’t. I just listen to his cues. If he asks more questions – I answer them.
My husband and I told the kids two weeks ago that we wouldn’t be able to hang out with Grammy and Gut (nickname for my dad) for a while. We told them we wanted to make sure they stayed safe, and part of them staying safe is us not giving them any of our germs.
Mason didn’t ask any questions that night, he just made jokes. In fact, he hasn’t asked any questions about the virus at all. And even this morning when he told me about his nightmare – he didn’t ask any questions. He just cried and told me how he felt: scared and sad.
Welcome to the club, kid.
I assured him that Grammy was holed up in her house and she was safe. We facetimed her – and Grammy said the same thing. She showed us all of the paintings she’s been doing and how busy she’s been INSIDE her house.
I knew immediately when we hung up that he felt so much better.
We’re in unchartered territory here. All of us are!
At our house, we’re just focused on taking this one day at a time. It’s my motto, can you tell? I say it to myself in the morning and before I go to bed. One day at a time.
Tomorrow – I’ll show you the epic UNO trophy my daughter created. Whoever wins UNO each night gets to keep it in their rooms.