Getting burned by a three-year-old

Or so I thought

I was once at a holiday dinner with my boyfriend’s family, and it was my first big get-together with them. Naturally, I was nervous, still trying to remember everyone’s names and relations and wanting them to like me. When we sat down to eat, one of his youngest nephews, a doe-eyed three-year-old, peered at me owlishly.

“Mom…” he began, and his mother turned her attention to her son, “Why is she here?”

Let me tell you I just about died. Having very little experience with children and their unfiltered curiosity, I had no idea how to respond. But his mother did, and while I sat there mortified, she replied without missing a beat:

“She’s here because she’s part of our family now.”

And just like that, the boy accepted his mother’s answer and dinner carried on. Only after that exchange did I realize how differently I had interpreted the toddler’s question. I had instantly crafted a narrative that he didn’t think I belonged and that he did not like me or my place at the table, when really, he was a three-year-old trying to make sense of the world and this new person in his life. The question was just a question, and my anxious brain had weaponized it so quickly. (Side note: He has since proclaimed to his parents on multiple occasions that he loves me, so we are on wonderful terms.)

From an outside perspective, I can see how silly I must look, a full-grown adult thinking a three-year-old had it out for me. But it’s a comical reminder of how quickly we can take what someone means to be something far more unkind. Especially when we ourselves are already feeling insecure. In those situations, it can help to give that doubt some doubt, catching ourselves on the unraveling of a questionable narrative. That way, we allow room for the question to just be a question… and not a self-inflicted burn.