Flush

Ava got angry with her daddy when he put an end to the Sesame Street online videos to get ready for bedtime. Like all kids, she started wheedling, whining, pleading. She thumped her fist on the desk and we admonished her. Ava huffed and stalked off. She came back with a book from her room and said,

A: "No more cats. We need to read this book."
Me: "Why, you don't like cats anymore?"
A: "No."
Me: "Why not?"
A: (pause) "I'm angry at Daddy. No more cats and no more birds"

Greg and I looked confused.

G: "Well, Ava, that's okay. I had a good time with you this afternoon running around the city."

Ava climbed onto the couch with us, read her book for a couple of minutes while Greg and I had a side conversation about running errands in a busy crowded city with a 3-year-old, how hard it is for me to get on and off jam-packed buses with Ava and my big belly. Meanwhile, Ava slowly snuggled up to Greg, leaned her head on his shoulder, and said:

A: "I love you, Daddy."
G: "I love you, too, baby."

Then Ava sat up and looked at Greg in the face...

A: "You gotta supposed to obey God."
G: "Yes."
A: "You gotta be patient."
G: "Yeah."
A: "You gotta flush your anger."
G: "I gotta flush my anger?"
A: "Yeah, that's right."

Then a conversation ensued about how being angry is permissible but some expressions of anger are not, such as kicking and throwing things.

Basically, Ava was repeating to us what we tell her about obedience, being patient, and being angry although we've never said anything about...flushing our anger. She pulled that out of her own head.

You gotta flush your anger, y'all.