I said this to London this morning when, as is occasionally the case, she fought valiantly as I tried to put her into the car seat. I told her she needed to obey or I’d be forced to spank her (I rarely do but the threat is surprisingly effective). She quickly started pouting, and, with bottom lip jutting and eyes wet, she said, “But I happy.”
Thus my remark.
Lately she’s decided that happy people cannot be punished. Happy people cannot be made to go to bed. Etc. So, it’s her trump card. “I happy.”
And what’s hilarious is that London, at the age of two has realized something adults often miss: Happiness is a choice. When things look like they may be going south, London chooses to be happy.
But what she’s missing is a less circumstantial happiness. And maybe that’s not happiness, maybe it’s joy. But whatever it is, I know that London would be a lot more happy a lot more of the time if she didn’t let little things get her so worked up.
Me, too. I want to be happy, and happy people are not easily frustrated.