Wednesday, April 25, 2012

Pride

Parenting is a tough balancing act.  Nick and I want to have a strong relationship with the kids, yet also believe
it is more important to be their parents than their friends.  There are many times I know I wonder if we are doing a good job or if we are creating monsters by not letting them have everything they want.  Unfortunately, you often don't know the impact of the lessons you've taught your kids directly and indirectly until they are older and no longer so impressionable.

Over Easter break, my little Gwyn poured pride into my heart as effortlessly as pouring her morning cereal into a bowl.  Considering the morning she had bickering with her sister over just about everything I never expected what was coming that Saturday.

I had planned to take both girls to an Easter egg hunt, however Paige had been very sick in the night so I knew she needed to stay home.  While I considered waiting for a hunt the next week, I needed a few things from the store and thought going would give Gwyn and I something special and fun for the two of us to do before moving on to the usual mundane Saturday morning chores.

Despite the dampness, the park was swarming with kids bundled like the little marshmallow men, armed with baskets and bags for their impending hauls.  The youngest age group was three to five, but two year olds were also directed to the open field where the eggs' brightness popped in the glistening frost.

Kids lined up behind caution tape, hungrily eyeing up the turf ahead, anxious for the horn to sound signaling it was time to gather their loot.  Parents were instructed to "let the kids do it" yet as the tone sounded, I saw parents pick kids up to deliver them to the orbs further in the field.  Even with the accidental knock over by another adult, Gwyn did well, gathering a few eggs, one with a message inside that she had won a particular prize.  Like any other kid, she was excited.

Then we walked by a very young boy in tears.  His mother was holding an infant and reminding him how she told him to run.  He had not gathered one egg.  Gwyn asked is she could give him one of hers.  Of course I said yes.  She whispered in my ear that she was going to give him the special one because he was so sad.  When she handed the little boy the egg the look on his face was priceless, just as much as the look of relief on the mother's face as she thanked us.  Then Gwyn told them to look inside, that the egg was very special.

Hand in hand we walked away, and I am sure I was beaming with pride.  In this moment, I realized in some way we are getting this parenting thing right, even if she still bickers with her sister or rolls her eyes at us from time to time, she's reflecting the bigger lessons we have tried to instill within her.

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