A Child's Enthusiasm

Claire punctuates the silence of the parking lot with a repeated, “Yay…Yay…Yay…”

I think, “I could’ve easily done the walk to the car without the yelling. Too early for this..."

But I tolerate the noise. Noise is a part of a toddler’s job, just as patience is part of a mom's. I watch, as she experiments with her voice bouncing off the concrete jungle that surrounds us.

Several car lengths ahead, a man in a tie puts on his jacket and grabs his briefcase from his trunk. I imagine he's a warrior suiting up for corporate battle, like a modern-day knight.

He closes the trunk, turns to us and says, “Someone’s happy today!”

“Ha,” I laugh. Sometimes, I think I need a little more coffee to be as happy as my daughter.”

He laughs too, “It’s hard to stay that enthusiastic, isn’t it?

“Yes,” I reply. “There’s something to be said for acting like a kid more often.”

He's ahead of us, walking towards the exit. He adds over his shoulder...

“Never lose the ‘Yay’."

“Huh!” I say. “Never lose the ‘Yay'...I’m gonna remember that one…”

“Me too!” he says, pausing a beat before he heads out the door.

Hand in hand through the parking lot, I join in with Claire, “Yay…Yay…Yay…”


Connect with: Bloglovin', FB, Twitter, G+, Pinterest

Photo Source: Happy_Serenity, Flickr

*****

Please join our link-up...

Welcome to The Sunday Parenting Party, hosted by Dirt and Boogers, Play Activities, Crayon Freckles, Taming the Goblin, The Golden Gleam, Prickly Mom, and The Tao of Poop. The SPP is place for readers to find ideas on nurturing, educating, and caring for children, as well as honest posts about the stresses of being a parent or caregiver. Links to reviews and giveaways are welcome as long as they are relevant to the topic. All parenting philosophies are welcome with one exception: please do not link to posts promoting physical discipline, as this is something we would feel uncomfortable having on our blogs. (P.S. By linking up you agree that your post and photos are Pinterest, Sulia, G+ and FB friendly. We will be showcasing ideas on The Sunday Parenting Party Pinterest board.)

 

<center> <a href="http://taoofpoop.blogspot.com/"><img border="0" src="http://i.imgur.com/FJIJWl.jpg"/></a></center>

Featured today are two great bloggers. Check out their fab posts:

Finding Ninee: Being Present with Your Kids
Our Feminist Playschool: Helping Our Boys Be Better Allies

Bonus! Check out other featured posts on The SPP Pinterest Board !

The Moral of the Story

I haven't been able to put words to my feelings about the verdict in the Trayvon Martin case. A lump of confusion, helplessness and outrage has been stuck in my throat.

I can barely think about losing my child, let alone so senselessly and with so little remorse from the person responsible. I dread the day when I'll have to tell my daughter that the world can be cruel and unfair. Claire's too young to understand right now, but she will come to me for answers someday. In light of last week's verdict, I feel profoundly helpless about my ability to give her good ones. 


A strange circumstance brought these thoughts and feelings into focus for me the other day. Claire and I were singing along to Little Bunny Foo Foo on the IPod. The song's supposed to be fun. It's always been fun. Since I can remember, this morality tale has been merrily teaching kids that actions have consequences, that might does not make right, and that justice can be on the side of the little guy.

As we sang the song, it wasn't so fun anymore. The tale of Little Bunny Foo Foo didn't seem to match our world. Reality wasn't as cut and dry as the moral of the story would have us believe.

I started to wonder if Little Bunny Foo Foo needed to be rewritten in light of the Trayvon Martin verdict. How would the song go if Little Bunny Foo Foo lived in Florida? What if he had claimed "Stand Your Ground" to The Good Fairy? Would she have let Little Bunny Foo Foo go free? How many more field mice would be bopped on the head for the sport of Little Bunny Foo Foo? Singing with my daughter, questions filled my mind.

How do you teach children the difference between right and wrong in a world that sometimes seems so lacking of a moral compass?

Claire asked to hear the song again, like toddlers do. I obliged. I loved that song when I was little. I believed in its lessons. I still believe. Peace. Justice. Equality. They are universal lessons.

But I felt a bit of a sham sharing them with Claire that day. l couldn't help but think of Trayvon Martin's mom. Life's more complicated than Little Bunny Foo Foo.

I looked at my daughter singing, and I longed for the innocence of a child.


Connect with: Bloglovin', FB, Twitter, G+, Pinterest

Photo Source: Milos Milosevic, Flickr

Learning to Walk and Other Life Lessons

I barely remember a time when Claire didn’t walk. It’s been a mere two months, but the transformation could not be more enduring.  Sure, children start out with the struggle of the learning curve, but once they reach a milestone, they never look back. 

While Claire was learning to walk, I was learning about life. It was my first lesson in letting go. I wanted to help. I could hold her hand and cheer her on, but I couldn’t stop her from falling. I couldn’t show her how to find her equilibrium. I couldn’t take a step for her.

She had to discover how to stand on her own two feet and move through the world. Literally and metaphorically, isn’t this experience what we want most for our children? Why is it so hard to do?

Claire took it all in stride. She would find a tentative center and lurch forward. Her feet didn’t yet know how to keep up with her head and upper half of her body. She would stumble back down to the floor. Over and over again.

I was impatient.

Yet, falling was time well spent for Claire. She developed elegant ways to catch herself on the way down, crashing on her belly and looking up at me with a giggle. “How smart!” I thought. “She needs to know how to fall right, before she can walk.”

I started to feel in awe of her grace. I started to feel joy being in her presence and watching. I began to wonder about my own need to be right and to have things just so.

When do we begin to see our efforts as failure when what we really need is more practice? When do we replace the ability to make fools of ourselves with feelings of shame and embarrassment? When do we stop having fun in the moment and worry only about the end result?

Claire has no self-doubt. She shows complete faith in the process. She isn’t concerned about when the goal will be achieved.

The best self-help gurus preach about this stuff all the time.  They’ve got nothing on my daughter Claire.