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It was a busy night last night. We hit the high school to see the k-12 art show around 5:30. As usual it was an incredible sight with hallway after hallway lined with portraits, sculptures, collages, color, chalk, tin… lined with beauty. Lined with creativity.

Next stop was a quick dinner with another family of 5. We had a surprisingly calm and pretty fun dinner with 6 kids under the age of 7 and a half. I am not sure our table neighbors would agree, but I was very pleased with the noise and activity level. If was really enjoyable.

When we got home it was mayhem. Only slightly elevated from the usual bedtime mayhem, but suffice it to say it took awhile to get everyone suited up and settled down. Lucy was spending her first night in a bed and the whole family was pretty excited about that. At one point in an effort to hurry along the process I helped Aidan wash his hands. His wrists are striped with very dry skin and it catches the dirt and is hard to remove. So, I stepped in. Then I squirted lotion in my hands and offered it to him.

To me, it was nothing. It was simply expediting the somewhat tedious task of bathrooming 3 kids. But for Aidan, not so much. He looked up at me, struggling to maintain his composure. He looked at my hands and back at my eyes.

Then, in his I’m- trying-hard-not-to-but-I-think-I-might-lose-it-voice he said, “No! Mom, first you help me wash my hands, now you want to help me with my lotion?” His outrage was such that you’d have thought I was trying to feed him fried salamanders with a side of rocks.

I wanted (for just a moment) to sigh. To roll my eyes. But I stopped, I made eye contact and I admitted wrong-doing. I hugged him and he hugged me back. “You’re right. I am sorry. Sometimes I just forget that you’re 7. Thanks for reminding me.”

I handled it well. So did he. It all occurred in front of the mirror, so I got a nice view of his smile as we hugged, so I knew he was headed to bed feeling good.

This is the beginning, I get that. Sometimes I will bypass my sensibilities or underestimate his capabilities or step up when I should step down. Sometimes I will not meet his eye, not hear his complaint, not feel his frustration. Sometimes he’ll climb the steps and pull the covers up over his hurt.

But not last night.

[tags]parents, kids, respect, contrition, love, independence, letting go, independent children, parenting, recognizing needs of a 7 year old[/tags]
Photo graciously provided by the author, through a Creative Commons license, some rights reserved