I love my kids so much. And sometimes, they do strange and annoying things.
If you are a parent, you can probably relate to the experience of finally getting through to your kid and seeing them change a behavior or attitude that was driving you crazy, only to have something new suddenly spring up.
For example, a week or so ago, I noticed this strange phenomenon: At random times of day, I would be walking through the apartment, and notice my things on the ground. These were things I would never put on the ground, like headphones, or a tablet.
For some reason, my kids were putting my expensive stuff on the ground where they could be easily destroyed!
When I asked them why, they said they didn’t know. They were doing it unintentionally, without thinking about it.
After a few days of observation and trying to verbally tell them to not do that, I was fed up and decided on a consequence. I told them if I found any of my things on the ground, and they put it there, I would throw one of their things in the trash. I repeated myself, so they would understand.
I was hoping they would fear losing their things enough to increase their respect and awareness of my things. I was wrong.
Merely a few hours after the warning, I walked out and found my tablet on the ground again. Time to follow through.
I pointed it out with stern expression and voice. They were surprised! One even tried to get out of it by saying, “No that was there before you gave us the warning!” I just said, “Then you should have picked it up.”
We all walked to their room to find a toy to throw away. I told them to pick (not wanting to accidently throw away their favorite toy). They stood in silence and hesitation for minutes. Then, my youngest offered up a green toy truck.
“Are you sure this is the toy you want me to throw away?” I asked.
“No.” He said. He took it back.
Looking around, the youngest again offered the next item. It was a scrap of cardboard. I secretly admired the try.
“No. We can’t throw that away. It’s just trash.” I said. I realized the irony of that statement hours later.
Then my oldest steps up. Leave it to him to find the best qualifying option. I see him go to a corner of the room, reach into the shadows, and pull out the smallest toy possible. I little, 4×4, gray Lego piece as big as the tip of my finger. I forced myself not to laugh or smile at the pained expression on his face.
I went to the trash can and solemnly threw the Lego in to the sound of crying and sobbing from my two boys. It’s amazing how sad they were to lose something so small, a toy played with so seldom that it sat, unused, in the corner of the room for who knows how long.
It made me realize how much we humans feel the pain of a lost opportunity. That little Lego represented the potential of hours of building fun to my kids. Even though they hadn’t even played with that particular piece, and have many more Legos, they still greatly felt the loss of that potential.
This feeling can be both a great driver of action and productivity, as we strive to meet our potential. But it can also be debilitating in the face of wasted potential. As children, we have a good cry about it, and then get back to playing. As adults, we can get bitter, and let that lost potential fester and grow moldy in our souls for years.
I think the children have the better approach. It’s funny how much we can learn from the little ones, even when we are teaching them.