I'm going to reveal a secret to you folks. The #1 way to get Helen to stop crying is to suggest a bubble bath. She gets so excited, she races up the stairs, shouting at the top of her lungs, "A BUBBLE BATH, MOMMY!" Over. And over. And over.
Not 15 seconds earlier, she was in pure meltdown mode over not getting to put the lid on her cup of milk. You would have thought I'd explained the massive failure of the sub-prime lenders and the slowing housing market, and that she'd sunk her entire 401k into aggressive construction industry funds. I mean, it was THAT BAD.
But mention bubble bath, and she's happier than the kid who convinced his parents to buy ice cream from the truck on the street - right now, right now, hurry or we'll miss it! Those kids will end up selling something for a living. Nothing like an 4-second sales pitch for ice cream at 4:30 in the afternoon sounds right. Spoiling dinner, costs too much, I don't have any cash, you'll ruin your clothes - there's plenty of ways to get turned down. I should know, because I heard them all growing up. But the kids who succeeded, and flew to the truck on wings of pure speed, and later paraded around with those AstroPops and their red & blue tongues like they were the kings of the neighborhood - THOSE were the kids to worry about.
Wait - where was I? Oh yeah - she was happy about the bubbles.