Wednesday, November 12, 2014

Stealing Skittles and Keeping Curfew



First let me set the stage of this past weekend. Potty training child #2, the free-thinker, the whimsical, carefree kid who could poop in his pants until age 30 and probably not care. We tried to build it up as this great feat that would be rewarded by precious and indulgent amounts of Skittles. He didn’t care. He’s a bit like that Youtube video about the Honey Badger. What we didn’t factor in was that child #1 couldn’t wrap his head around not getting rewarded for his bathroom accomplishments. The Skittles became a forbidden fruit, only allowed to be eaten if you were new on the underwear scene. And of course, it wasn’t fair!

Child #1 has started his sneaky phase recently. He will do something he knows he’s shouldn’t, then quickly tell us he’s sorry before admitting the wrong-doing. I must admit, I’m impress he’s mastered this skill at such an early age. He’s also like an addict when it comes to candy and goes out of his way to get his loot. So it came as no surprise Saturday night as I stepped out of a much needed shower (potty training is not so cleanly) that I heard Brad bellow below, “What were you just eating?!?” I knew it was the Skittles. The kid had eyed them all day, and to be honest, I was surprised it had taken him that long to get them off the counter and into his mouth.

As I came downstairs, I could hear the battles of wills still taking place. Father versus son in a “what is right” and “what is wrong” clash. For a moment, I was glad it wasn’t me this time with the voice elevated and for a moment I also thought the raised voice might be the approach to take with the situation. If this child knew how mad and disappointed I was with him, surely he would understand that next time I would be just as disappointed. But sometimes Grace swoops in and gives you some clarity on the matter at hand.

As I saw my son crying and truly upset because he got caught, my mind quickly fast-forwarded to conversations we have yet to have, to levels of trust we have yet to instill. I saw a 16- or 17-year-old version of this child racing home along the winding roads of Chattanooga at top speed trying to make curfew so he didn’t have to tell us he wasn’t paying attention to time or he wasn’t doing what he was suppose to. I have heard the horror stories where things like this end in tragedy, all for the sake of rules and with no thought to the value of a child being honest. It was that vision that made me realize that more than anything, I want my kids to know that I value the truth. Their admittance to the mistake is what I am asking and the consequences will be dealt out as necessary. But in this moment I wanted him to know that it was his truth that mattered most.

He’s going to make mistakes in this life, I can’t prevent that. But I want to be the one who he comes to to help him problem solve the huge things. I want him to know that when there’s something big, like he’s depressed or he’s questioning his sexuality, that I value knowing that and I want to be a confidante in that moment. I want him to feel like when he’s made a mistake, he will face consequences but I don’t love him any less for it. And this goes for both my boys. #1 and #2 will come from the same starting points but their paths will look so different and there is no cookie-cutter response to any given problem. I also am not delusional enough to believe that I am going to know everything and every struggle my children will face. I just want to keep that pathway available so they never feel that they've got no way to be honest with me. 


Parenting is tough and the decisions we make in these early stages set a foundation for many years to come. I don't take this task likely, but I also don't take myself too seriously because I'm not going to have these graceful moments too often. However, I'll count this one as a gift, as insight, and as an example of the parent I would like to be even when I'm up to my eyeballs in potty-training and Skittles stealing!

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