I was doing dishes in the kitchen
last week when Jacob came in and started unloading the dishwasher. While
generally, dishwasher unloading is a job that belongs to the kids, I had yet
not asked anyone to empty it. Jacob proceeded to empty not just the glass
items, which are traditionally his responsibility, but also the silverware and
plastic things that his brother and sisters usually put away.
“Who
are you and what have you done with Jacob?” I said to him. Jacob smiled—he knew
what I meant. While I would never describe Jacob as unhelpful, he usually needs
to be reminded to do his jobs around the house.
“Is
this a new and improved version of Jacob?” I continued. “I like it.”
“Version
2.0,” he said, alluding to system upgrades on computers that get a new number
each time.
It
does feel like Jacob, at 14, has received a recent upgrade. It’s nothing
dramatic—upgrades seldom are. It’s the same Jacob but with more power and
stronger capabilities. I’m sure some of the things that are new for
Jacob—baking and filling out his own applications for programs, for example—are
things some kids younger than him have been doing for years. Likewise one of
his other new skills— giving short,
age-appropriate yet insightful lectures on behavior to his younger sisters—might
be a task that some young parents haven’t yet mastered. But in some ways, it
doesn’t matter where other people are their own developmental trajectory. I can
only compare Jacob at 14 to Jacob at 12 or 13, and I’m seeing progress.
Jacob
Version 2.0 has made me stop and think about progress made by my other
children, as well. Sometimes it’s hard to be aware of progress. All three of
them—ages five, seven and ten—seem to require a lot of coaching just to simply
fulfill the most basic components of civilized life. I say the words, “Now go
brush your teeth,” approximately 8 times per day—one for each of them, morning
and night, plus a couple extras on average, thrown in. (And this isn’t even
counting the follow-up question, “Did you brush your teeth?”) I remind them to
eat and to bathe; to not leave their things in the middle of the room or on the
stairs; to wear boots; to do homework; to turn off lights; to say please and
thank you; to go to bed; to use the bathroom (just one of them); and to not
interrupt.
But
if I look closely enough, I realize that for each of them, there are things
that I no longer need to say—things they have internalized without my noticing
the exact day it happened. Like Jacob, my three younger children are also
becoming upgraded versions of themselves. As a parent, it’s so easy to look
ahead—what do I want my child to be able to do next—that we can lose sight of
how far they’ve come.
Jamie
no longer needs four time-outs per day just to follow directions. When she was
three and four, she spent so much time on the little step near the front door,
I worried that we were scarring her for life—she seemed to test Bill and me
more than the boys ever had. Now that she’s five, though, she’s down to about
two time-outs a week. Mostly, she listens and follows directions. It’s not
perfect, but it’s progress.
When
T entered our home as a foster child a year ago, she could not stand it if
Jamie received anything that she didn’t—a hug; a compliment; a treat bag from a
birthday party. After year of hearing our refrain “Different things for
different people,” though, T now understands her turn will come and is rarely
jealous of her little sister.
A
year ago, every piano lesson and practice session for Liam ended with him in
tears—soggy piano keys and Bill and I wondering why we were paying for
something that made our son cry. Now,
after a few tweaks to practice times and the change to a new teacher, Liam
bounds off to lessons and proudly plays for grandparents when they come over.
Progress.
And
just as I look for upgrades in my own children, I picture God the parent
looking for upgrades in us. Knowing we’re not perfect, that we still have far
to go, but celebrating our progress nonetheless. God, waiting patiently,
helping us move towards the version of ourselves that we need to become.
Welcome
Jacob 2.0. And welcome to the upgraded Liam, T and Jamie. I look forward to
seeing future versions.
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