The Kind of Kid
Posted in Grand ReflectionsSimon Says
We were finally on our way to the park to meet our friends. It had been a hurried morning, and I had already changed my mind three times about whether and where we would spend the blazing hot morning outside. Since breakfast had been sketchy (in a moment of later-to-be-revised-planning, I thought we would be coming back home to eat), I stopped at Scooters to supplement the dry cereal the boys had brought along for the ride. I ordered an iced tea for me and just one muffin to share among the kids (my two boys and Tasha’s kids).
Simon was not happy with my plan. He protested loudly and mournfully. I don’t remember exactly how it all went, but I do remember being exasperated and saying something like, “Simon, you will either share the muffin, or I will give it back to Scooters!” He launched into a ridiculous fit of unintelligible wails, punctuated with clear “I don’t WANT to share!“s and “it isn’t FAIR!“s. Obviously, this was not the time to have a heart-to-heart about the value of sharing and empathy, and, well, he couldn’t hear my yelling over his own, so I held tight to the wheel and tried my best to tune out his weeping and gnashing of teeth (I may or may not be exaggerating that in my memory of the incident).
And then, somewhat abruptly, he stopped thrashing and howling. I’ve learned not to look gift silence in the mouth—or directly in the eye—lest it flee. I drove on.
After a minute or two, he said to me, “Hey, Mommy? Do you remember when you said that I’m the kind of kid who says he won’t and then he does it?”
Yes, I did remember. Almost two full weeks before, we had been at Rebecca’s house. When we were getting ready to give the warning signal that we were getting ready to think about leaving, Rebecca asked Simon to pick up one of the toys the kids had been playing with. He didn’t do it right away, and after several minutes she made a comment to me that it wasn’t such a big deal. I responded that I was pretty sure he would do it. You know that story that Jesus told about the two brothers in the vineyard where one said he would do it but didn’t and one said he wouldn’t but did? Simon says he won’t, but then does. Almost every time. (And, yes, he did pick up the toy that day.) I actually didn’t remember that Simon had even been in the room. He made no indication at the time that he knew I was talking about him.
“Yeah, buddy. I did say that, didn’t I?”
“I said I wouldn’t share, but I will. Daddy says you always have to do the right thing, even when you don’t want to.”
Even as I am writing this out, another week or two later, it still makes me catch my breath. What a tremendous responsibility we have, and what an unbelievable privilege. This is not the first time I’ve been reminded that the kids are listening all the time. Seriously. ALL the time. Nor is it the first time that I’ve heard something repeated with freakish accuracy (for better or worse) by one of the boys and had no doubts about its source. That Simon not only listened to what I said but also took those words so much to heart was hugely encouraging and, of course, a little frightening too. The implications are as humbling as they are obvious.
In the days that followed it occurred to me that Simon really latched onto that particular phrase—“the kind of kid who . . .” I wondered if it could be useful. My Grandpa Johnson always said, “Tell kids they are good, and they’ll be good,” and I believe that, almost without qualification. I tested it out with some obvious ones: you’re the kind of kid who shares with his brother; I want you to be the kind of kid who says “Sorry” when you hurt someone, even if you didn’t do it on purpose. And, sure enough, it was—and continues to be—a helpful way of communicating expectations without resorting to pleading and cajoling. That is, as a parenting tool, it’s working. (So far I haven’t overused it, I don’t think, but you can see how it would be really tempting: you’re the kind of kid who picks up his toys without being asked to and does his own laundry; you’re the kind of kid who makes Mommy an iced coffee and plays quietly with your siblings so Mommy can read.)
But (or maybe I should say “and”) as I’ve reflected on this, I’ve been wondering where to go from here. For a four-and-a-half-year-old, it seems completely appropriate. But as he matures, I don’t want him to get stuck in being “the kind of kid who” anything. . . . Well, unless you count being the kind of kid who loves Jesus and obeys his Mommy and sleeps in his own bed all night.
Comments
Bethany
Oh, I love this post a lot.
Andy
Thanks for sharing this one. Loved the reflections.
Jen
This is rich, Renae. I have told the girls how God views them, and the encouraging things I see in their character. I don’t want to give them a false sense of their goodness, but I want them to know they have the capacity to do the hard things in Christ’s strength. I don’t want them to be controlled by other people’s opinions of them, but for them to know how wonderful God thinks they are. I think it is important for us to verbalize these things to them.
RT
Beautiful, Renae. This is the great part of blogging—-capturing these moments and reflecting on them so the rest of us can reflect as well. I love how your little pitcher has big ears AND literally big eyes. What a handsome boy.
Sarah M
Renae, such beautiful thoughts. It reminded me of a time when Marsha H was speaking at Mom2Mom, which I’ll always remember (and *try* to use when I can remember it), when she had a little girl who was being bullied, and she said, “What does God think of you? Do you think God thinks that’s true?”, etc. That has helped me many a time.
Thanks for sharing,
S
Bethany
Thinking more on this…I am always really careful what I say about Adeline that is negative (I try never to say “she’s shy” or “she’s clumsy”), because I don’t want her to think those things define her, or are always true. But I am free with telling her positive things about herself (“You are a very good eater - you love to try new foods.” “You are very strong and brave” etc.) But I wonder how damaging even these positive assignations are - I instinctively try not to tell her too much that she is pretty/cute/beautiful, because I don’t want her to identify herself with her appearance, or even really think about it right now. But I also don’t want her to identify herself by her smarts or good eating or sense of humor, either. So maybe the answer is to acknowledge these more neutral traits (looks, intelligence, skills) but not harp on them, and rather dwell on the qualities that Christ would want to see in them (kindness, forgiveness, patience, etc.)? Thoughts?
rachel
Simon, I am so proud of you. Love this! Especially the last part of the kid who loves Jesus. The other night while putting the boys to bed, Simon only wanted to read from his Bible. I read several stories and said it was time to sleep. “But I need to hear more stories about Jesus.” Then his bedtime prayer just melted my heart.
tara
i love that you took the time to write this for us to share in, love the words and even all the comments, too. i, along with bethany, would love to hear your thoughts on the question she poses
Renae
Yes, many thoughts. I wholeheartedly agree with the tension you named. I also am very free with praise for my kids, and though I once and a while read something about sheltering our kids too much or giving them a false sense of competence in certain areas or whatever other ways we can potentially screw them up, I still think that when in doubt it’s probably preferable to err (to the extent that it’s possible) on the side of affirmations. This seems obvious to me.
I do give some credence, though, to the potential problem that you mention when kids internalize whatever trait or behavior – positive or negative, actually – and then somehow make it part of their identity and/or think (hopefully mistakenly!) that being loved/approved of/accepted is dependent on continuing to fulfill that expectation or fit that description. I think there are some really interesting and important implications here, and that’s probably worth a whole extended discussion.
I also think that as much as saying to your kids (or anyone, actually), “you’re this way or that way” can communicate expectations in a potentially harmful sense, it can also communicate that they are seen and known. So, for example, telling Simon he reminds me of the brother in Jesus’ parable can communicate any number of things to him, some of which I might intend and others that I might not: maybe he’ll take it to mean that he’s off the hook as far as obeying immediately, or maybe he will understand that I recognize that sometimes he needs a little space to come to the right decision on his own. Probably a little of both. I love what Jen said about telling her girls what encouraging things she sees in their character and what Sarah said about pointing our kids to what God thinks about them (I think so often of Marsha’s wise words too).
So, yeah, it’s a huge task to teach our kids where to find their identity (Christ alone) and at the same time to offer freely our love, acceptance, and approval plus appropriate correction and discipline and somehow to help them (and ourselves) not to get it all confused and inappropriately bound together. I can hardly overstate my need for help in all this.
[I keep getting sidetracked, so I’ve been working on this response for a couple of hours and continue to think about it while I’m doing other things. It’s a tricky subject with many different aspects to think about. I probably have many more thoughts, but I’ll get these posted at least. ☺]