I took the girls to Dollar Tree yesterday to do some high end Christmas shopping. We ended up having quite the incident.
Matea picked out a faux ceramic cat for great-grandma that was exactly like the one she "gave" me for my birthday (really, she just let me open it, took it back, and then I secretly threw it away when she stepped on it and broke its paw). While walking around, she dropped the kitty and it shattered into hundreds of pieces. She was grief stricken. I'm talking down on her knees, sobbing, screaming "My kitty! My kitty!", and trying to pick up all of the little pieces. I'm not exaggerating when I say that it was as though a real kitten that she'd had for 15 years was run over in front of her. It was tragic.
In these overly dramatic and emotional situations, I don't think I'm usually very sympathetic. Bella's quite the drama queen so I'm usually just irritated by the huge emotional production. But I felt terrible for Matea. It was obvious that she was really devastated and her emotions were completely genuine. A stranger walked up to us and asked me to give her all of the broken pieces so she could throw them away while I whisked Tate over to buy a new kitty.
I felt so bad for her, I secretly bought two. One for her to give to great grandma and one for her stocking. I was feeling like quite the softy and really proud of myself for giving in to the dollar piece of crap which I normally find to be a waste but was happy to buy because I knew how happy Matea will be on Christmas morning. Then Bella had to ruin it all by blurting out in her loudest voice, "Um, why are you buying two kitties? Who is that black one for?". Shutty.