Sydney, our youngest, is graduating high school and I am a little nostalgic. I have been thinking back to her growing up years. She has always been a wise little soul (now she is a wise tall soul). Here is a piece I wrote about from the very month she started kindergarten where she delivers a message I needed to hear which I am not sure I have quite grasped 13 years later.
From the Blog Archives, September 2008
Teachable Moments
Jackson had been invited to a birthday party and Sydney could neither understand nor accept that she had not been invited. I told her we could do something fun and she chose to go to Toys R Us to buy Jackson his birthday present. Jackson’s birthday is not for two months but she was most excited about the gifts he had given her and she wanted to buy him something special. (by “she” and “buy”, she means ME). I am touched though, and agree to go.
At Toys R Us we are getting out of the car and she is wearing her Cinderella sunglasses which she clips onto her she shirt, she is carrying a cell phone transformer in one hand and she also wants to bring a stuffed dog in with her. I suggest to her that bringing THREE things to the store is pushing it and odds are she is going to put one of them down when she looks at something she wants to buy. I let her bring all three things in knowing I’ll be the one to keep track of them. If I keep this flexibility up I’ll be qualified to teach yoga!
We are in the store about 40 seconds when I notice her cell phone is clipped onto her shirt in place of the sunglasses. Her glasses are missing. We retrace our steps all the way back to the car, then wait in the customer service lineup to check the lost-and-found and retrace our steps again, all without success.
I’m more than a little pleased with how non-judgmentally I said, “well that’s too bad.” She is a sensitive flower so I don’t want to crush her spirit but am hoping she can understand the the consequences of her actions and perhaps she won’t need to haul 3 things into every store. It’s a teachable moment, not a time to use my well honed “told you so” voice.
She says nothing. I repeat myself out of habit as the boy needs a few attempts before questions or comments penetrate his grey matter.
She says to me “Mommy, let’s just forget about it.”
She is not getting my life lesson here. Or maybe she is?
“Do you feel badly about losing the glasses?”
“I just want to enjoy buying Jackson’s present.”
Ouch. Her gesture of generosity is almost squelched by my pathological distaste of losing things.
“Okay, let’s just forget about it.” I say, finally seeing the big picture.
We don’t get Jackson a present and I manage to abort the mission when her eyes get fixated on Bratz dolls. Don’t get me started on that.
As we’re leaving the store, I can’t help myself. “It is too bad about the glasses” I say with the slightest sigh.
“Mommy, you said you’d forget about it. That’s not forgetting about it.”
Teachable moment indeed.
Postscript: The Cinderella glasses were in the van!