So that's Ayana's new thing--reducing herself to tears over these supposed applesauce holes. I'm less interested in the fact that she sees holes (I've long been aware that my child sees the world as if through Picasso glasses) than I am why she's so distraught about them. What's the big deal? It's a question I ask myself a lot these days. Apparently, the answer is everything. With Ayana, everything is a big deal. And because I'm one of those hippy dippy new age parents who believes in positive reinforcement, I spend a lot of my time trying to put a positive spin on my daughter's propensity to make mountains from the hills of moles. And then bury those mountains in applesauce holes so she can start fresh. To be sure, her flair for the dramatic is an exhausting trait. It's hard to watch the love of your life fall off the horse. Or the cow, as it happened on that particular day. It's hard for my rational adult mind to grasp the si