The day begins like any other: We wake up around 7, lift Sasha from her bed, and plunk her down in the living room with a warm bottle of milk while we get dressed. Nor does anything seem unusual on the subway—on a fortuitously empty F train, Sasha sits calmly on Jean’s lap, except for a brief tap-dancing session between Jay Street and York Street. Preschool drop-off is as uneventful as preschool pickup 9 hours later, and the Chinese-bakery bun Sasha munches on not only occupies her attention on the train home but fuels a three-block sprint home. Playtime, bath, toothbrushing, and a double reading of “Knuffle Bunny“—who’d noticed anything unusual? It’s only when Jean and I put Sasha back in the bed, coax her to lie down, and drape a blanket over her that we realize: She hasn’t cried all day—not one single solitary salty tear! Truly this is a joyous occasion!
Except, of course, it hasn’t happened. At least, not yet. It will one day—it has to. And I have a feeling when it does, we won’t even notice.
But I am increasingly curious about when this hallowed day might arrive. Is it a 2-year-old thing? A 5-year-old thing? Am I foolish to look forward to the Day of No Tears? Am I overly obsessing about the importance of not-crying?
Think of it this way: A tendency toward weepiness qualifies her to be Speaker of the House.
Tears will remain part of the mix for years to come. Only the when and how will change. And yes, weepiness now seems to be a prerequisite for Speaker of the House. JImmy Swaggart should have run for office.
Vincent | CuteMonster.com
No, you won’t notice it. At least, I have no specific memory of when that happened for each my three sons. It will happen when she has enough of a vocabulary (be it verbal or otherwise) that she can communicate all of her needs, wants and emotions for that day without the tears.
And that’s when I’ll start asking, “When will my daughter finally shut up?”
Laughing hysterically.