Sometimes love refuses.

My kids are... I'm not sure what's the right word. Unassuming? Tentative? Reticent? My kids don't jump in feet first. They sit at the pool's edge; they check the water's temperature; they look around and see how others are experiencing the water.

This temperament has some advantages. It disposes you to understanding people, to seeing all sides of an issue, to thinking things through. They won't make the mistakes that those who are rash and exuberant will make. They'll make different kinds of mistakes. They'll have a hard time telling people what they want and need. They'll be worried they're breaking a rule by asserting themselves.

For better or for worse, via nature or nurture, this is the way they are. It's the way Aaron and I are. We are a family of hobbits, not dwarves, for you Tolkien-ites out there. But I know how the world works. I know the squeaky wheel gets the oil. I know if you worry about what people think of you, you waste a lot of energy. I know it's a dwarf eats hobbit world out there, and you have to learn to assert yourself. And I know I have to nudge them toward that end, as much as I can.

Yesterday I took Will to lunch at Subway before his grueling afternoon of Kindergarten. He picked out the chips he wanted, and we moved down the line choosing our sandwich toppings. The line grew behind us as we traveled past the meats and veggies, and on to the cash register. When we got up to pay, I noticed Will had left his chips behind.

    "Will, you left your chips back there in line, run get them while I pay." The boy looked at me like I was asking him to walk over Niagara falls on a wire.
    "Mommy, will you go get them?"
    "No, I'm paying." I paid for lunch, including the missing chips and we headed toward the table, with Will's whining revving up like an air raid siren.
    "What's the matter?" I asked, knowing perfectly well what was the matter.
    "I want my chiiiiiips!"
    "Your chips are right over there. I paid for them. Go get them."
    "I can't do that! Those people will think I'm cutting in line, or stealing the chips!"
    "We are Lastnames. We do not say can't. You can explain what you're doing if someone asks you, but no one is going to ask you."
    "No mommy, you have to do it for me! Please!" He was tearing up now. I got down to his level, and took off my glasses for emphasis.
    "I want to have a nice lunch, and I don't want to spend a lot of time on this. Getting your chips is something I could do for you, but it's my job to help you do things you can't do. It's your job to do things you can do. Every time you do something scary, you exercise your brave muscle, and then things that used to be scary won't seem scary at all because your brave muscle is stronger." He looked at me uncertainly.
    "There's no such thing as a brave muscle," he humphed. "Is there?"
    "You better believe there is. You can have chips or not have chips. It's up to you, but now let's eat our lunch and talk about something else."

I could see his little wheels turning as we munched on our turkey sandwiches, and talked about going to the library later. In another minute he got up and went behind the line. He stared at the people who stood between him and the chips he had left on the counter. He stood there, summoning his courage, and then went over to the rack of chips and got another pack of the same kind. Even doing that was exercising his brave muscle. He wasn't quite forthright enough to claim his chips, but he still got what he wanted. Hey, whatever works. He marched back to the table with a little spring in his step. I gave him a smile and a thumbs up. We ate our subs in silence for a few minutes.

    "I like how you love me," he said. My heart skipped a few beats. I mean how often do you hear a kid say something like that? And because I'm greedy I said,
    "In what way?" He thought for a moment, his eyes moving back and forth as if they were tracking his thoughts.
     "I dunno," he shrugged. I didn't really expect him to be able to articulate what he meant, nevertheless, it was the most sublime confession of ignorance I've ever heard.

And to top it off when we got to school and saw Emily at lunch recess, she came up and hugged me-- in front of her friends. My fifth grader! Who likes to pretend she was hatched from an egg! It was a very good day indeed.You can read more Love Thursday entries here, and here. And visit the main site here.

Comments

[lizardek]

That WAS lovely! The whole thing! :D

[All Adither]

Oh. My. Sheryl, this is beautifully done. I think I'm so moved by it because my son is the same way (same age too).

Hope you don't mind if I stumble, twitter and Kirtsy you.

You're so good at this.

[Lucia]

I got tears in my eyes. Seriously. My son is exactly like that. Asking to be helped for every little thing. Except in his case it's his laziness that prevails. I will have to think of some "muscle" that he needs to exercise (I guess it would be his real muscles!). As for you... you are an amazing Mom!

[Linds]

Oh, I have so much empathy for Will. I am still inclined that way.

You did a great thing to tell him about the brave muscle. You area great Mom. :)

[Elizabeth MacCrellish]

you are such a good mom!!!!!! I love how you love, too!!!

[Sam]

Okay, this is my new favorite post of yours, ever ever ever. I need to print it out and keep it in my wallet. I love your definition of being a parent.

[MommyTime]

I found you through All Adither's Twitter. This is a lovely lovely post. I'm so happy to have made my way here.

[fruitlady]

Love that! My first born was like that for a long time but finally after watching his little brother who jumps in feet first for everything he decided he would get over it and get on with his life. It's fun to watch them flex those brave muscles (mostly because I am a big chicken)!

[Cate O'Malley]

Oh so sweet! That totally could have been my son last year too. I so get it.

[olga]

that was awesome, love the brave muscle, I'll have to keep that one.

[Jen Zug]

This was awesome - great post. My son is the same way, and you just gave me a new tactic. Thank you.

[juliloquy]

Oh, you nailed it, honey. Well done. I hope I have the wherewithal to do the same the next time something like that comes up.

[Fraulein N]

Ohhh. That's me. And when I say that's me I don't mean that's me at his age, I mean that's me right now. It's sad, really. I think my brave muscle needs a workout.

That is some excellent parenting right there.