As far as bad days go for a five year old, this one ranks high. While at her yearly check-up, she discovered she might need glasses, was told her spine might be slightly crooked, and, to make matters worse, endured two shots in both thighs. My job was to "restrain" her arms and legs as the nurses jabbed the needles in.
Not flair. No, this was not flair at all today.
We left the doctor's office right at lunch time. Dairy Queen was on the way home, so we pulled in. The whole time, I'm trying to comfort her, but nothing's working.
As we order food inside, I begin telling our server all about my daughter's horrible day. Hopefully, some ice cream will help matters. A few minutes later, this same server came to our table. Seeing my daughter still tear-stained and sniffling, I said, "We are just having a really bad day."
"Well," she said as she handed us our food, "there's a lot of day still left."
My daughter looked at her and smiled. The thought of "a lot of day still left," worked. The radical concept that the day wasn't doomed just because of a bad morning transformed this little girl's world. There was still time--seconds, minutes, hours even--to redeem the day. There was still time for flair.
I wanted to kiss the server. I told her that her comment would change the course of our whole day. Once again, language well-timed and well-spoken can create a new reality. The comment created anticipation. Something good would come. And by the time we'd finished lunch, ice-cream, and some laughs in our booth, it already had.
Living with flair means remembering "there's a lot of day still left." Even if we're down to seconds, there's still time for flair.