No one likes to hear a mother bragging about her kids. While every parent has moments of thinking his or her child is the smartest, cutest, most athletic, kindest kid in the class (and perhaps the city or even the nation) we all know there are limits of how much others want to hear about our kids. I would like to brag as much as the next mother, but I hold myself back, and expect others to do the same.
The other night, we were at a fund-raising dinner for a local charity and were placed at a table with a couple we had never met. Their children were about the same age as ours, and we soon learned the mother was home schooling. She spent the first course of dinner going on about how brilliant these kids were because of her home schooling.
“Our kindergartener just finished Treasure Island,” she gushed across the table.
“Really,” I said, reaching for the rolls. “The real Treasure Island, by Robert Louis Stevenson, or an abridged version?”
“Well, an abridged version, but still, it had chapters,” she said.
“It was 164 pages long,” her husband added.
“Now that would be something, if he could read the actual Treasure Island, wouldn’t it?” I said.
As a former teacher, I knew as well as anyone that it is a feat for any kindergartener to even be able to read the words “treasure” and “island,” let alone an abridged version of the classic novel. Truly, anything beyond Dick and Jane is considered quite advanced for kindergarten. Yet, somehow, I could not give this mother the satisfaction of an amazed reaction. I needed to downplay her son’s achievement.
My husband teased me about it later on the car ride home.
“The REAL Treasure Island? Oh, just the abridged version. Well, then.”
“I couldn’t help it,” I said. “It just popped out.”
The desire to brag about our children is not all bad. In fact, when done to the right audience — the child’s other parent, grandparents, even aunts and uncles — it can be a wonderful thing. Some of my favorite conversations with Bill have been when the kids are gone for the weekend and we have a chance to catch up with each other and talk about great things they’ve done lately. (Of course, the fact that we are alone for the weekend always helps us think fondly of the kids.) Grandparents never recognize parental bragging for what it is-- they call it “news” and soak it up. And aunts and uncles — especially childless ones — tend to be their nieces and nephews’ biggest fans.
When kept within the confines of the family, or even within close friendships, telling of our children’s accomplishments helps us to appreciate them even more. One example of Liam’s creativity, told by me, often sparks his grandmother to think of another example, and soon we are basking in the glory of Liam-ness. It’s a nice place to be.
The difference between boasting inside and outside the family circle has to do with how full a picture the listener has of your child. In the case of close friends and family, a proud parent’s comment about a child’s accomplishment is just one piece of the puzzle. Grandma heard about how Liam hit his sister yesterday, but today she’s hearing about the elaborate popsicle-stick crucifix he made at school. Both are parts of Liam. She sees the whole picture and delights in the good. In the case of the Treasure Island reading kindergartener, though, that’s all I know about him. His mom is providing a one-sided view, and while I know it can’t be all that there is, I can’t very well ask, “Yes, but what are his bad points?” so I choose to diminish the one good point I do know about. Was it nice of me? Not really. But it did just pop out.
Our vast parental love for our children propels us into wishing that everyone could love and appreciate our children as we do. Our mistake is thinking that if others could just know of our child’s gifts and strengths, they too, would love our child. The irony is the opposite is true. The people who love our children most are those who know their wobbles as well as their triumphs.
Swapping stories of missteps-- whether our own or our children’s-- is an important part of telling the parenting story. It’s a way of making sure we don’t puff up with pride in our own accomplishments. Acknowledging imperfections keeps us grounded and true. It releases us from the fear that either our children or we need to be perfect in order to be loved. Telling of foibles as well as triumphs allows us to take one step further away from conditional love. At the same time, it brings us one step closer to love without condition — love even through faults and failings. And that brings us one step closer to loving as God does.