Broken hearted

The dog was the cause of a casualty today. I didn't realize that Katelyn left her stuffed unicorn outside last night. (Actually, it's a washable pony that you can draw on, but to her, it's a unicorn.) She got it from her aunt Shauna for Christmas, and she really loved it. So you can imagine her sadness when she realized that this:

had turned to this:

She came running inside crying, and said in the saddest voice ever, "Mom, I left my unicorn outside, and it exploded!" I have to admit, I was pretty curious. It didn't occur to me at first that the dog had gotten to it. And it was really hard not to laugh, because the term "exploded" put quite the picture in my mind. I ran outside with her to see what had happened, and her description was pretty accurate. I wanted to cry myself as my little girl gazed at the wreckage that was once her beloved unicorn and sobbed over the loss of her toy. It recalled similar feelings of loss that I experienced as a child. Oddly enough, nothing specific comes to mind, but I know that, just like any other kid, I went through this a million times. The feeling was so familiar.

Without sounding unsympathetic, I turned it into a lesson about leaving toys outside. But let me tell you, I really wanted to run straight to Walmart and replace the darned thing. Yes, she has a gajillion stuffed animals, and yes, she really needs to learn this lesson, but wouldn't it make her so happy to get a bright shiny new unicorn? After all, that's what I would have wanted as a child. I think my resolve to not get ANY MORE STUFFED ANIMALS was what really kept me from getting her a new one. Guess I'm not really as nice as I thought.