Wednesday, May 11, 2011

What Will Our Children Remember About Us?









My complicated relationship with my number-two son, Jackson, boiled over this morning. In my crazed insistence that we NOT be tardy to school EVER, I rushed the kids out of the house. We were all made cranky and uneasy by the frenetic drive to Manor Elementary. When I was saying “Go, go, go, run, run, run” and pushing them out of the car, Jackson turned to me and said, “Wait, Daddy. I want a kiss and a hug.”


“There's NO TIME!” I implored him. “Go NOW.”


And his face changed. The light in his eyes turned off, and he frowned before slamming the door and heading slowly toward the school door behind his more compliant brother, who was already inside the building.


I stopped, realizing I had a decision to make. I could continue rushing off to work, or I could park the car.


I did the latter and ran up behind Jackson, throwing him playfully over my shoulder, running to the front door of the school. Both of us were laughing the whole way.


When we got to the front desk, I set him down with a couple of minutes to spare before the tardy bell rang. I knelt down to his level and looked at him, wondering if he still wanted the kiss and hug. Thankfully, he did. And it was one of the best kiss-and-hugs I’ve ever had.


I’m glad I made the choice I made. In my mind, it came down to a very simple question: What will my child remember about me when I’m gone? Will he remember the day I screamed at him that there wasn’t enough time to show him the affection he desired?


Or maybe he’ll remember something else. Maybe he’ll recall that morning he was feeling sad and alone when suddenly, unexpectedly, his father came back for him, swept him up in the air, weightless for a moment, before giving him a kiss and a hug, and making him feel so very, very loved.





4 comments:

  1. I love this post Dan! I recently had an identical scenario with Phin. I was in serious cleaning mode this past weekend, and was trying to get it done as fast as possible. I threw clean linens on the bed, and was beginning to put them on, when Phin bounced in the room onto the bed saying excitedly, "I want to help Mom!" At that moment, in my crazed "get it done mind", I snapped, "No Phin, get off the bed!" Two seconds later, I stopped and thought how awful that was of me to discourage him from wanting to help. We need to slow down to enjoy times like that when they still want to help us and hug us.

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  2. So true, Tara.

    It appears we're living parallel lives with our little ones!

    Hope to see you soon, and happy you enjoyed the post.

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  3. ahhhh....thanks for the tears. Love this :)
    -Liz

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  4. Thank you for writing this ...I want to print and place on front door

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