Sometimes it's good to share the pain

We went to our local library last night, as is our custom. I was upstairs in the nonfiction stacks, with G seated nearby, "reading" a Japanese anima comic book. I was looking for a pressure-cooker cookbook to use with my new pressure cooker, and another woman wandered into the aisle. She wandered out again, and my mind said "I know her," but I couldn't place her. She wandered back in. I thought a minute, and came up with it. "You're Zoe's mom, right?"

She brightened up, and smiled. I think she'd been doing the same thing. I told her who I was and G's name, as I hate fishing around for names myself. We shared some "what grade is s/he in" questions, and she mentioned that although Zoe is in the Pre-K class she and I had just been raving about, she says she doesn't want to go to school each and every time.

"Yeah," I said, "G said that every day, starting about 3 1/2 years old, for at least a year. 'I don' wan' go to school!' he'd rant. Once he got there, he was fine, but he always whined when we were going."

"Oh my gosh! I'm so glad you said that! I was feeling guilty, since I'm at home these days and I send her 3 days a week." She went on a bit, and then, as she left, she said, "You have really made my day!"

Go on, share the pain. Sometimes it's a good thing.