“MOM!!!! Can you come in here right away???” I ran into the kitchen, expecting to see spilled blood or broken bones, from the tone of my daughter’s voice. Instead, I saw her crestfallen face, and at her feet, a gallon of spilled fruit salad all over the kitchen floor.

“Dad just got me this fruit salad, and I spilled it all over!” My daughter burst into tears. I ran over and hugged her. “Sweetie, it’s okay! All we have to do is pick it up, wash it off, and the fruit will be just fine!” “Really?” she asked. “You bet,” I answered.

Together, we picked up the fruit, cleaned it off, cleaned the floor, and all was right with the world. A few minutes later, my daughter said to me, “Mom, I’m sorry. I overreacted.” She’s been sick for four days, home, bored, and watching hours of TV as her mom tried to do her work without falling into major maternal guilt. “Honey, we all have our moments,” I reassured her. She nodded, and went off to eat her newly sparkling fruit.