Sad Story

Emma called me the other day to tell me a sad story....a story I know well. It is a story of little brothers and broken dreams (okay maybe just broken toys) and I had been there and I felt her pain vividly. She sighed as she told me, obviously holding back the flow of tears.

Emma: "Pratt broke my doll." (sniff sniff)

Me: "What doll?"

Emma: "The little one." (exasperated that I don't immediately know...but she has a lot of dolls)

Me: "Oh Emma. That is really too bad." (I still really have no idea which doll she is referencing)

Emma: "Grandma is trying to put it back together....with glue. But you can still see cracks in it." (her voice cracks somewhat poetically)

Me: "What does this doll look like?" (up to this point I was envisioning a soft baby doll and I did not see how the glue worked in to the equation)

Emma: "Oh! Auntie Dawn! Don't you know? It is the guy who watches sheep in heaven!!"

Me: (stifling a giggle) "Oh it is from the nativity scene."

Emma: "Yes. And I just can't believe he got it."

Me: Continuous consoling for several more minutes followed by suggestions for keeping things away from baby brothers' hands.

Today you choose your "moral of the story"
Be grateful there is already someone assigned to watch the sheep in heaven.
or
Take time to explain that the nativity scene actually happened on earth, not in heaven as the angles in attendance might indicate.