A week or so ago, I heard Ted Kennedy say in an interview that,"No effort made on behalf of a child is ever wasted." A few days later, I had one of the best days of my entire life. We'd taken my son and grandson to the casino and stayed in the hotel overnight. The little boy is three and loves to ride the elevators and escalators and eat at the food court and jump from bed to bed in the hotel room.
But his favorite place is the domed space at the top of the escalators where, if you tap your foot sharply or whistle, there's an amazing echo that goes on forever. He always asks to go there and if I happen to glance up there's always a passerby or two laughing at our antics. And when we leave he always says, "Bye-bye, Echo," as if there's somehow a personification of his own voice that's left there once we've gone.
I spend a lot of time with him--we fought for custody when his mother left--and work hard to be sure that he's comfortable and happy in this place that's always been his home. But somehow the other day was special among all the days we've had together.
After checking in at the hotel, I'd taken him to a park, where I sometimes go, in a nearby town. We wore each other out on the jungle gym--Poppa ain't as young as he used to be--and then went back to the hotel for dinner. Afterward, my wife and son went back to the gaming floor where they pretty much played the night away (along with an undisclosed amount of cash).
The little boy and I went back to the room and fell asleep watching "Nick at Nite." In the morning, we were the first, and only, ones up and went downstairs for breakfast. Now here's where his mom and I have always differed. Even in the best of times, the most fun times, the "let's both laugh and be silly times," you're still the adult and he's still the little kid. And he needs to know that he can absolutely depend on that. Because that's where his security really is--in your security as an adult.
I know it's because she's a kid herself that his mother has a hard time understanding this. In fact, I think that having this child was a way of empowering herself in the face of an adult world for which she otherwise felt unprepared. The result has been a predictably sad and difficult journey for the little boy.
Anyway, he decided to dig in his heels a couple times, when his understanding of the situation differed from mine. And that's really what happens. The child, understandably, sees things differently than you do as an adult. So what you have, as the adult, is an opportunity to teach. And you've gotta make the most of that, when you've got the chance.
(There are, of course, lots of exceptions to even the most general rules of child-rearing. Any parent, grandparent, or other care-giver, who's had to deal with a child who's hungry, over-tired, or otherwise out of sorts, knows that these are not teaching moments. At such times, it does help to remember that we are all, on occasion, unreceptive to reason, affection, or other inducements.)
Some people think that patience, like wisdom, comes with age. I think it comes from being too old and tired to blow off the volume of negative energy that some people routinely do with their kids. Instead, you save what you've got till the line has to be drawn, around some issue of safety or propriety or consideration of others.
And that's what happened on our very best day. It's not that everything was perfect. Neither of us was, and nothing ever is. But we handled those things and got back to enjoying each other. That's how you know that life is real and being well-lived. And even though he's very small, I hope my grandson will somehow carry that knowledge with him, as the years pass and the details fade and the face of his grandfather recedes, as it inevitably will, into memory.
LPK
LiveJournal
5.6.2006
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