
“Oh no, it’s broken!”
“Oh no, it’s dirty!”
“Oh no, it came apart!”
I hear these words constantly around my house.
The words are usually followed by tears. Then my toddler looks up at me with those wide eyes and adds, “Mama fix it?” Sometimes she even adds a please in there.
When I became a parent, I knew I would wear many hats: playmate, disciplinarian, short-order cook, and nurse. However, I never really thought of Mrs. Fix-It in the job description.
Back then, I thought of “fixing” as mediating a fight between siblings. I never thought of it in the purely literal sense, but my daughter really does expect me to fix everything that breaks. More than that, she truly believes I can fix everything.
On a daily basis, I am putting something back together. Toddlers definitely play rough.
I tape picture book pages back together.
I stitch torn stuffed animals.
I mend holes in her favorite clothing.
I am proud that I can do more than most. I love sewing and between my partner and me, we have lots of tools in our house. In our household, we can even 3D print things. My toddler should consider herself lucky.
I wish I could fix everything, but there are some things I can’t fix.
The other day, she held up a piece of chalk and said, “Broken! Fix it?”
She was inconsolable when I tried to explain I couldn’t put it back together. The best I could do was put masking tape around it, but that wouldn’t hold for long.
Try explaining to a two-year-old that some things in life can’t be fixed. She can understand some things like plates can’t be fixed when dropped. But when she’s attached to something, it’s like her world is about to end.
I kind of love that she thinks everything can be fixed and that I’m the one that can do it. I should enjoy these moments while they last.
In the years to come, there will be things in her life I won’t be able to fix: broken limbs, broken hearts, or worse.
I also might not be the person to whom she comes to solve her problems and help her fix things.
In the meantime, I’ll try my best to fix the things that break and console her when others can’t be fixed. I’ll try to teach her that, although some things will never be whole or fully fixed—like the chalk — they can still be loved and enjoyed.
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This post was previously published on Medium.
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Photo credit: Annie Spratt on Unsplash




