Mommy, you suck. Now go dye your hair blonde and get a tan, stat.

Yesterday, I was lounging on the couch while Sophie played happily beside me, spinning round and round in the office chair that seems to have taken up permanent residence in the middle of our living room. The sun was shining through our picture window, and the birds were chirping outside. It was a lovely, lazy Saturday afternoon, and I was reveling in the kind of relaxing moment I don't often allow myself, breathing in the sound of Sophie's giggles as my eyelids grew heavy.

Suddenly, apropos of nothing, Sophie stopped spinning and looked directly at me. Very thoughtfully and clearly, she said, "I don't want you to be my Mommy anymore. I want a new Mommy." 

"Why don't you want me to be your Mommy?" I asked with genuine curiosity.

"Well," Sophie replied, "I just don't like you very much. I wish your hair was blonde and your skin was brown. I want a different Mommy."

"Are you joking?" I asked. (Fact: four-year-olds can be hilarious, but most have good comic timing only by accident. I thought maybe this was an attempt on her part to be funny and her delivery just needed a lot of work.)

"No, I'm not joking!" she answered, clearly offended by the mere accusation. "I just don't want you anymore, that's all."

Judging from her demeanor and tone of voice, she did indeed seem to be serious. Her statements were made without a trace of lightness or silliness, as if she had given careful consideration to this issue and had simply come to the conclusion that I suck.

In retrospect, I can think of several calm, carefully measured responses that I could have employed, responses that would have surely resulted in the kind of heartfelt parent/child discussion that invariably ends with smiles, hugs, and running through the grass together in slow motion. And despite being completely stunned, I gave it the old college try at first.

"Sophie, why would you say something like that?" I asked as neutrally as I could. "Remember how Mommy told you that if we don't have something nice to say to someone, then it's better not to say anything at all? Telling someone you don't like them very much and want them to go away is not very nice. You really hurt my feelings."

And then, of course, because I am...well...me, I promptly burst into tears.

Intellectually, I realized that her words were coming from some previous point of reference I just didn't understand and that I shouldn't take them personally. But emotionally, I was pretty devastated.

When she saw that I was crying, she immediately gave me a hug and said that she was sorry. Then a few minutes later she announced gleefully, "Mommy, I DO want you to be my Mommy! I changed my mind!"

I have no idea what prompted the bizarre exchange. She didn't bring up the subject again, and I was hesitant to do so myself because a) I didn't want to make a big deal out of it, and b) I didn't trust myself to talk about it without getting all weepy.

My daughters constantly amaze me with their random thoughts and observations, many of which have been recorded on this blog. Kids truly tell it like it is, and anyone who develops a relationship with a child learns quickly to set vanity aside. Both of my children have also said unkind things in anger, and while the comments can be upsetting, I understand the words are coming from a place of frustration and I try not to take the sentiments to heart.

But yesterday was different. Sophie wasn't merely offering up her unique and (mostly) innocuous perspective on life, and she wasn't lashing out. Her comments were presented as a simple statement of fact, and it felt personal. It felt real. Perhaps that's why I'm still brooding over it. I know Sophie loves me, but the thought that I've done anything to make her contemplate, even briefly, that she'd rather not have me as a mother is a horrifying thought. I wish I were thicker-skinned, but truthfully...it's gonna take me awhile to let go of this one.