Lately I’ve been seeing this quote on Facebook and
Pinterest:
“Don’t let yourself become so concerned with raising a good
kid that you forget you already have one.” Glennon Melton, momastery.com.
I didn’t give the quote much thought when I repinned it to
my own “Inspiration” board. I see things like this on the internet all the
time, after all. But this one came back to me a day or two later, as my son
illustrated its truth right in front of me.
I already knew I had a good kid, but as I watched him
participate in his gymnastics class this past Wednesday I had a moment to
reflect on his goodness. He struggled across the monkey bars, his most
difficult challenge in class, and dropped to the ground in the middle. Then he
went back to the beginning and waited in line to start again. I had watched the
previous week as a child pushed the Bean out of the way to restart the monkey
bars. I’m not saying that was a “bad” kid – that kid was doing something
perfectly normal and I wouldn’t be surprised to see my own child do the same.
But the more I pay attention to what the Bean does on his own, without being
told, the more I realize that all this worry I have over character building
might be misplaced. Character seems to come naturally to him. He waits in line,
he steps back and lets others take the lead when necessary (but not always; he
does assert himself when needed), and he works hard. After class, one of his
coaches took a moment to tell me that the Bean is doing great because he works
hard, does what he’s told, and always tries to please. Something inside me
cringed at that last part, because I don’t want him to pursue excellence just
to please someone else, but I don’t think that’s what is happening here. He
wants to do what his coaches ask, and he’s having fun doing it at the same
time. I’ll keep a close eye, however, to make sure it stays fun.
Yesterday morning was Valentine’s Day, so I woke the Bean up
with a couple of presents. “Mommy, I still love you even if you don’t give me
presents,” he said, quelling my fears that all of his stuff is making him into a spoiled consumer.
Yesterday afternoon he played at the park with a crowd of
rowdy boys, and he was as rowdy as the rest of them. But when an altercation
started, he hung back a bit. He told me not to look at what they were doing,
which admittedly is not ideal, but then he proceeded to tell me exactly what
happened. Frequently, the Bean has been in a situation where his friend has
wanted to do something he’s not supposed to (at four, this is never anything
really bad), and I’ve watched as he said, “I’m not going to do that. You’re not
supposed to.”
I want my child to be assertive and bold and to take risks.
I want him to rush forward sometimes instead of always hanging back. But I’m
thankful that he’s cautious, that he thinks about things before jumping in and
doing whatever his friends are doing. I can’t say he always thinks first. He’s four, after all. But I’m starting to
notice that all the qualities I’ve been hoping my child will develop are
already there.
What I like about that quote is its implication that all
kids are good; we just have to recognize their goodness. Even the rowdy boys
who would lead my kid into trouble – they’re good, too. I’ve always hated
calling a child “good” or “bad,” anyway. “Is he a good baby?” people asked when
the Bean was new. If they were asking if he slept through the night, the answer
was and still is no. If they were asking if he never cried, the answer was and
still is no. If they were asking if he never had tantrums or big feelings that
were tough for both of us to deal with, the answer was and still is no. But he
is good by any definition.
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