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.
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