So what I’ve realized about the less-than-wonderful aspects of my children’s characters is that I must model for them what is Right and Good. I mean, how can I expect them to be long-suffering if I have No Patience Whatsoever? How can I expect them to control their tongues if I let fly at any given moment with Choice Words of a Less Than Gentle nature? They are younger than I am; they are just getting started. They need to see and not simply be told how to live.
This doesn’t always work for me. I have a twelve-year-old son now, you see? And sometimes it’s him telling me how things should be done. The scary thing is that– very often– he’s right.
At the very least he’s right about being on time. His father instilled in him early that it’s his responsibility to know when his team practices are. He needs to take the initiative to get ready on time and to tell his driver (one of us) when he needs to leave. And despite his gene pool, Will has become uncannily good at this. While his mother has a Terrible sense of time and tries to pack as much as is humanly possible into random ten minute blocks (“I’ll just clean the bathroom real quick and then vacuum the Entire First Floor”) and leaves at 7:01 for a meeting that starts at 7:00 and is ten minutes away, Will insists on leaving Well Before any sensible person would even begin to consider such a thing. He plans to leave 20 or even 25 minutes before he has to be somewhere, even if somewhere is only 15 minutes away. Imagine! What a waste.
This is challenging for me. I don’t like to be told what is Wise and Good by a twelve-year-old– particularly when that twelve-year-old is right.
So perhaps there was a modicum of self-righteousness within me that felt annoyed with him this morning. He knows Very Well that I need Plenty of Advance Notice when he needs something for school. He also knows Very Well that I am supposed to be at school every day at 7:45. And he knows that despite how hard I try (I try So Hard), it definitely takes More Than Ten Minutes to get to school in the morning.
Nonetheless.
He announced to me at 7:01 that he had to take donuts to school today. And this, when I am giving a final exam at 8. And this, when no one is up (except me and him) and no one is dressed (except me) and No One Will Be Ready on time to buy donuts.
But what are you going to do? Make a 7th grader who is supposed to be bearing donuts arrive unladen with said items? 7th graders are merciless with filled stomachs– what in heaven’s name will they do when denied their breakfast pastries?
We stopped for donuts.
I handed Will the cash. I made him run in the store. And I sat in the parking lot and watched the clock, and worried about my students looking for me, and wondered why time has to go so fast.
He broke a record (if there is indeed a record for such things) and we were back on the road in short order. But I muttered to myself about the traffic; I sighed loudly at the traffic lights; I mentioned More Than Once that he really should have (he really should have) told me about the donuts yesterday.
And when we parked at the school and we all grabbed our stuff and were all heading our separate ways to start the day, I called after Will. I did.
“Thanks for buying me donuts, Mom!” I said (this was to get him to realize that he should be grateful, see?).
And then, “You’re welcome!” I called after him (and this would have been my line, if he had thanked me).
And then later, when I got to my desk, and I wasn’t late, and I got my students settled into their exam writing, and I’d had a moment to pray, I realized that I had done it All Wrong. It wasn’t even (quite) 8 a.m. (well, 8:15), and I had screwed up yet another opportunity to Teach My Child.
Because how do I want him to treat me (or his friend, or his wife) when I’m late the next time? Do I want him to mutter? to sigh heavily? to complain? Or do I want him to be magnanimous, gracious, patient? Don’t I want him to forgive?
So when I saw him later in the day, I recalled the Late Donut Incident to his mind. He didn’t remember it, really. The 7th grade mind has Much More Important things to think about. Still, I told him I was sorry for complaining, for grumbling, for not counting it a blessing to do him this small favor, this small act of service despite the fact that he (for once) hadn’t held up his end of the bargain.
He forgave me without hesistation and with a generosity of heart that is Rare to See Anywhere.
Yes, modelling good behavior for one’s children is, I believe, the way to go. And this morning, handed an opportunity on a silver platter, I had to go and screw it up.
But I definitely modelled the apology. Oh My, Yes. And not for the first time. That’s one thing I’ve got Down Pat.
