Visitation Day

Today we all packed up and went to the child center for the Bananas to have their weekly visit with their parents.  As usual, Little Banana went in like a lamb and came out like a holy terror. 
She came right to me for a big hug.  Then pushed me away hard and gave me the look.  Uh oh.  I know that look.  On the way to the car she stomped and hollered, "NO! NO NO NONONONO NO!" even though she wasn't actually saying no to anything particular. 
She was so wound up, and the weather was so wet and icky, I decided to take them to the mall play area to let off some steam.  They all ran amok and had a great time sliding and climbing.  Until Banana took up a seat at the top of a slide, and refused to budge.  The line of children behind her piled up.  She sat there, backwards on her perch, staring them all down. 
I began walking over to encourage her to slide, just in time to watch her suddenly pop the kid behind her right in the eye.  What do you know?  Girl has a pretty decent right hook! She nearly knocked him off the steps. But he rallied and slapped her back.  She looked utterly victimized and began to wail piteously.  (Which did not, I'm afraid, save her from time-out.) 
I took that as our cue to exit for lunch.  After all our headway on her eating issues, today of course she slid right back to square one.  She played with her food and made a huge mess. She crammed her entire sandwich into her mouth, then stared at me with steely eyes and steadfastly refused to chew.  We sat there waiting for her. Forever.  She threw a fit in the bathroom when she had to be changed.  She insisted on putting on the straps in the stroller, then began to fuss because they were on.  Little One knelt down to console her, cooing and asking how She could help.  Banana kicked Her in the face. 
Back home, after a long nap, I picked Banana up and- like she used to in her first week with us- she went rigid and leaned as far from me as possible.  "Get off me," she chanted as I changed her diaper.  She went to play with the Littles while I fixed dinner; pushed and hit, grabbed toys and screamed "MINE!" whenever either of them touched anything.  She took a red crayon and scribbled all over the art table.  She swiped Little One's lovie and ran and hid it in the living room.  Finally I called everyone to dinner.  She didn't come.  The Littles washed up and sat waiting in their chairs.  Banana ignored my calls. "Ok, Banana.  If you can't hear me I will come and bring you to the table!" I started to walk over to her.  At that, she came running into the kitchen, pell-mell, right into my shins.  Sobbing the whole way. 
She practically never cries.  She whines.  She whimpers.  But she doesn't cry.  This time, she was all-out tears and heaving sobs crying.  I knelt down, held her at arms length and looked straight into her face.  "What's wrong?  Why are you crying honey?"
She just shook her head.  I don't think she has the words for such a big question.  Maybe no one would.  Or maybe she just stubbed her toe, I don't know.  She can't tell me these things. So I just went with intuition. 
"It has been a hard day, hasn't it Banana?"
She nodded. 
"It's ok to be upset.  I see that you are feeling upset.  You look sad and mad."
She wailed.
"I want you to know that it's ok.  You are ok.  We love you and we don't want you to feel sad.  I'm right here and I will take care of you."
She stopped crying suddenly and just stood there, staring at me.  Her arms went up- ...down.  Up- ...down. 
"If you need hugs, I have plenty for you."
She seemed to fly into my chest, crying again, clutching my neck.  I picked her up and held her a long time. She quieted, she went limp.  Finally she lifted her head and looked at me and smiled. 
"Silly!" She said.  (Which I've learned over time is Banana language for "I like you". )
So I smiled too and we ate a dinner with few problems.  
Afterwards I was cleaning up and she looked at me again with tears in her eyes.  This time she reached for me and said, "Mama.  Mama mama! I want you.  Mama."   She calls me that. 
I scooped her up and she held on so tight.  In the kitchen Pandora was playing Jazz standards. 
I held her close and we danced as Sinatra sang to us-
"you're nobody till somebody loves you! So find yourself somebody to love"
She had her head on my shoulder, her cheek pressed to mine. Every time I slowed down or began to let go, she gripped me tighter.  This little thing who took weeks just to be comfortable in quick hugs or a story time cuddle, wrapped herself around me like a band-aid and melted into my arms. 
We danced three songs.  In the glass of the window over the sink, I caught glimpses of her smiling.