So, the Universe in of all her perverse comedic genius has blessed Joseph and I- in all of our anti-social (some may say socially inept) genius with not one, but two, young "people who need people". Pauses to hum a few bars of the aforementioned song as not to go completely mad. The problem with people who need people? Rejection. Yep the big R. You're too tall, short, fat, thin. Your sneakers are smelly, scuffed, ugly, the wrong brand, color, size. The list just goes on and on and on.
We've spent the last day and a half reminding Yael that she is a perfectly imperfect 9 year old whom we love insurmountably. And, that the evil little heifers...er, I mean sweet young and naive children who weren't nice to her, just haven't learned the power of their hurtful words. In other words, they suck. Well, look it's what my previously-punched-in-the-stomach-so-hard-I-was-winded-and-crawled-to-my-door-for-wearing-a-pleated-plaid-skirt inner child wanted to say. Instead, I took the high (on Diet Coke and antidepressants) road and diverted her pain and disappointment into the making of recycled milk carton monsters. (Harrumph! I bet those other little letches mothers' aren't crafty recycled milk carton monster making mavens!)
For now, we're over it. She cried today while discussing it with the Favorite Guy because it "hurts to talk about". We think she'll be just fine, but if she isn't there's a contingency plan: