I’m crouched down on the balls of my feet, leaning against my son’s single bed for support. There’s both a box spring and a mattress. They rise almost to the top of the spindled head board. It’s the same bed set that I used growing up. It’s half of a bunk bed set. Different mattress, naturally. I’m crouched down so that I’m eye level with William. He’s been in better moods. Right now he’s a bit teary and tired. We just immigrated from his sister’s room where “we” couldn’t decide which movie to watch. I’ve just given them three choices which they whittle down to two. They each select the opposite of each other and start digging their trenches. Adeline digs with stubbornness. William starts picking away with tears and a frustrating amount of whining.
I’m trying to be patient but I have to let William know that my patience isn’t eternal.
“Buddy, let’s go in your room and get your jams on.”
“NO! I don’t want to go to bed!”
“Buddy, I can’t have you screaming your head off because we can’t select a movie. We’re either going to compromise and watch Toy Story 3 or we aren’t going to watch a movie.”
I should mention that I have already reintroduced the previously discarded third movie as the now only choice due to their lack of agreement and any reasonable attempt at such. The plan from the beginning is to get their pajamas on. They know this. William must have forgotten in the fray. I decide not to remind him to see how he is going to play this.
Back in his room, we’re having a man-to-little-man while I help him change into his jammies. He’s still upset. I explain, again, what acceptable behavior is and how his currently resembles something different. He’s calming down and is trying to understand.
“I’ll watch Toy Story 3!”, he murmurs, still crying.
He’s trying. First, he’s trying to be agreeable. But mostly, he’s trying to not go to bed early. I’m not sure if I’m doing the right thing but I decide to help him appreciate the difference.
“I’m glad that you want to watch the movie with Adeline and me. I want you to, also. I don’t want you to go to bed now either. But I want you to behave the right way because it’s the right thing to do, not because if you don’t you’ll be sent to bed early.”
He’s looking at me. I have no real idea if this is meaningful to him right now. I respect my children’s intelligence and believe they’re capable of grasping things we often don’t believe they can. I never know for sure though.
“Ok?”
“Ooooh-kaaaaay.”
Jammies are on. Tears are subsiding. We’re on our way downstairs to watch a movie and snuggle on the couch. We’re a little exhausted but we’re happy again. A few minutes later you can’t even tell we were standing on the front porch of a core meltdown. I love this about my son.
I’ve thought about this several times since, doing a thing because it’s the right thing to do. It sounded good when I said it. I believe it.
It’s horrifying at times if I let it be.
I believe there are things that are good intrinsically. For their own sake they should be done. Because they are a better expression of who we should be, how we should be. Not because if we don’t we’re going to get in trouble. Knowing this doesn’t make it easier. At times I still find myself denying what is best or allowing what isn’t. Knowing is alright. Desiring the greater virtue is more alright.
It’s so much easier to teach this to my son than it is to learn this lesson myself.
Photo credit : Bluffton.edu
