And because he did it, I learned how to do it too.
Last week, Sophie came home from school crying. A boy in her class had pulled her ponytail at recess, hard enough to hurt, and when she told him to stop, he laughed and said, “It’s a joke.
Why are you so serious?”
I knelt down in front of her in our kitchen. I wiped her face.
“What did you do?” I asked.
She lifted her chin. She looked me right in the eye. She has my brown eyes. My mother’s. Rachel’s.
“I said, That’s not funny,” Sophie said. “Really loud. In front of everybody. And then I told the teacher.”
“And what happened?”
“He got in trouble,” she said. “And he said sorry. And then he didn’t do it again.”
I pulled my daughter into my arms. I held her so tight she squeaked.
