This afternoon I went for a walk around the apartment complex where I live. There’s a lake and a makeshift bridge that crosses over a little stream that leads to a walk through the woods. When I approached the bridge there were three children playing there, two boys and a girl. They appeared to be around nine years old. Having been a children’s entertainer most of my adult life, I can be a shrewd judge of a child’s age. They had that frightened look on their faces that children get when a grown-up approaches, and they think they’re going to get in trouble. I started talking to them, and they told me how they get yelled at a lot because people say they are trespassing. I told them I would never shoo them away, and that I was happy to see that they were out playing in the fresh air, exploring nature, and riding their bikes, and not sitting in front of the television or playing video games all day. I asked them if they’ve ever met a grown-up who never yells. In unison the three children said, “Never.”
I went on walking and met up with the three of them on my way back. The children were curious to know who I was, and readily shared their tales of woes about teachers who say mean things to them, and about their “alcoholic” older brothers and sisters, and how they think kids should have a day in which they get to tell the grown-ups of the world all the things that they are doing wrong, instead of the other way around for a change. The astuteness in which children asize the world always amazes me. The little girl lamented how she had broken her flute last month, and fixes it everyday with spit and crazy glue, and how she’s afraid to tell her mother that she broke it. I said, “Think about telling her when you go home tonight. Your mother will yell for a minute, get over it, and then she’ll get your flute fixed.” I then asked her what she’d like to be when she grows up. She said she wanted to be a writer. She asked what I did. I said, “Among other things, I am a writer.” She asked, “Did you ever write a book?” I answered, “Yes, I just finished one.” She asked me what it was about. I told her that it was a book aimed at helping mommies and daddies learn how to get along better, so that their children wouldn’t have to listen to so much fighting among their parents. And she said, “Oh, I better buy that for my parents for Christmas. Boy do they need it!”
Her candid remark made me think about how much our children are forced to bear witness to. How they suffer when we scream and hurt when we fight. Later on, they must relive our marriage, particularly the one they saw before the age of five. They do this so that they will eventually come to forgive us, since they learn, albeit the hard way, how easy it is for two people who love each other to fight and not get along.
Are you proud of the way you behave in front of your children? Would you be happy or horrified if they duplicated your marriage?
As a mother of a grown daughter, I sadly confess, I am not proud of some of the things she had to see, or the times I raised my voice, or was judgmental, or less than kind, or intolerant. If I could go back in time and change those moments, I would, but I can’t. We can’t change the past, but we can learn from it, make amends, ask for forgiveness, and try to be a better person in the here and now.
Children tend to view grown-ups as giants who scream at them to stop doing this and stop doing that. Let us strive to teach our children that we are mere mortals, highly flawed beings, who can and do make mistakes. That we aren’t perfect, nor will they ever be. But if we unconditionally love them and really listen to them, they will guide us and show us the way.
Have you hugged your child today?