Guilt trip from a toddler

This morning I woke up to a fight. Scott had left to take Zaven and Caly to school and he'd left Zoe and Quinn playing and watching TV in the living room. It only takes about a half hour to drop them off and drive back home, and he knew I'd been up with the baby late last night, so he just let me sleep and let them play. Since our bedroom is right beside the living room, there's no way you can sleep through it if something goes wrong. So I woke up to both of them screaming at the top of their lungs. I knew from the sound of the scream it was hurt feelings, not injuries, so I wasn't in a panic. I went to the baby gate and Quinn was across the room. He was crying hard and when he heard me, he ran across the room and slammed into the gate I was standing behind. He hit hard and bounced off of it so hard he fell on his butt. And then he was so mad and hurt and offended that he wouldn't let me pick him up. I reached for him and he just screamed harder and swatted at my hands.

I finally just wrestled him into a hug and sang to him 'til he forgave me. But the sad thing was, I felt so guilty. I hadn't done anything wrong. I was just standing behind a gate, trying to gather my wits to figure out how to open it (I am NOT a morning person.) But from his point of view, he ran to his mom for help and she shoved him and knocked him down.

Zoe told me Quinn was mad because she hit him. I asked why she hit him and she said he kept turning the TV on and off over and over so she hit him, but he should say he's sorry because when she hit him, he hit her back.

I think maybe she's figured out how to tranfer her guilt over to me. Clearly she has none and I have too much.