How could I possibly resist listening to this adorable angel?
My daughter’s smile can light up a room, but her insanely long recaps of lunchroom drama between five girls, a shoe, a note and some other item that I have no earthly idea about, are far from illuminating.
In fact, her convoluted conspectuses often make my ears burn, though the pain could actually be my brain frying, as I try to decipher what green socks and Eggplant Parmesan have to do with how she fared on Friday’s spelling test.
I try to make sense of it all, but I’m old.
Yet, I am extremely cognizant about the importance of listening to your child.
I’ve lost track of the number of times I’ve heard childhood experts implore parents to set aside time every day to listen to their children. Ten minutes at bedtime, 15 minutes in the car or 20 minutes while you are making dinner can make a huge difference, especially if you make a genuine effort to understand and appreciate your child’s point of view.
There’s nothing’s more valuable than being able to patiently and respectfully listen to your offspring.
Duly noted; which is why I indulged my sweet 8-year-old on Mother’s Day.
Our family’s festive holiday brunch was peppered with toasts to all of the moms present at the table. The tributes were touching and my daughter delighted in the traditional clinking of glasses which followed each salute.
Of course, there was no way my like orator was going to pass up the opportunity to publicly share her thoughts about the favorite women in her life… and gleefully bang her glass of orange juice against mine.
She was allowed not one, but three different chances to express her feelings about all things mom.
When she begged for a fourth turn I politely shut her down as she was doing far more talking and giggling than eating.
“But, Mommy,” she cried “I just have three words to say.”
I nearly choked on my guilt.
Three words. Three little words.
How could I be so insensitive, so callous; so reluctant to listen?
Here it was Mother’s Day and the sole reason I was even being honored was because I gave birth to a precious child who simply wanted to articulate her feeling in three words.
My heart instantly overflowed with love for my pride and joy.
“Go ahead, honey” I whispered.
With permission granted, my darling daughter directed the entire table to raise their glasses. She then turned to me, smiled and exuberantly uttered these three words:
“You’re a kumquat!”