I came across an article on snopes.com a few weeks ago that said that Im more likely to be shot by a toddler than a terrorist.
Im not that surprised.
I have never suffered as many injuries to my body as I have since I invited little babies and children to live here, and Im not even counting the ways Ive been hurt by them doing normal things, such as nursing.
Im talking about all of the times they have dropped a metal can on my toe, stood up and smashed my chin with their heads while I was bending over them to zip up their jackets, tripped me and sent me falling down the stairs or thought it would be funny to throw a paper airplane at my head and hit me in the eye. There have even been times many times when my husband has been full-on punched in the gut by my daughter when a benign family wrestling match gets a little too exciting.
But I have a story to tell about these little terrorists that live in my home, and maybe it can apply to other areas of our communities because I believe in families. I believe families can be a guide to our past, a glimpse of our future and include people we have never before met. I believe families can be great and small as big as a country, even.
In my family, I have a little 6-year-old boy. Hes a paradox, as Ive written before, and he never disappoints to show the depth and breadth of his character. For example, he does not like to hear the word no. One time, he asked for some candy after school and I said no, and he screamed for no less than 20 minutes. Just the other night, I told him he couldnt have Arbys for dinner and he lost his mind over the idea that he would have to wait while I made him something else.
In his defense, hes not his best when hes hungry. Poor guy is as thin as anything, and when his stomach hits empty theres not much to tide him over. When hes hungry, hes hungry. When hes bored, hes bored. And nothing to him is more entertaining than pestering his parents, brother or sister, or breaking some poor unassuming toy. He has slashed his brothers cheek with his fingernails, talked back and said terrible things about how much I am the worst mom ever.
Hes not perfect nobodys perfect.
However, if you looked at my child, without knowing him, and decided that he is going to be a nuisance, that he shouldnt be allowed in some public place, or that he is going to ruin your dinner in some restaurant by being in your vicinity, then you are wrong. If you think that you have nothing to gain from being in his presence because of his age, then you are missing out. If you are annoyed by the mere sight of my son and all of the 6-year-olds like him and reduce him to a one-dimensional little terror out to ruin your day, then heaven help you.
My son teaches me about compassion daily. One day this week, we traveled somewhere that had a gumball machine. He knew it was coming. He started planning his visit to this gumball machine days in advance, and he just couldnt wait. He talked to his sister about how he was going to get a gumball and she was sad to learn the visit would be when she couldnt go. So, when the day arrived, my son took two quarters out of his piggy bank one for him and one for her. He bought her a gumball and gave it to me to keep it safe for her. He didnt even think twice.
A day or two later, my kids were sitting at the dinner table, eating dessert. My son had to finish all of his little bowl of chicken soup to get the chocolate cake and he didnt like it. However, his desire for dessert overrode his distaste for chicken, so he powered on. He had taken a few bites of the cake when his sister started to get in a fight with her dad. She lost her dessert privilege. As soon as my husband removed her cake from the table, my son slid his plate over to her. He didnt even wait. He saw the tears in her eyes and he wanted to make it better; it didnt matter if it meant he wouldnt have what he wanted.
So, sometimes I dont want to let this noisy, disruptive 6-year-old into my room to sleep at night because Im worried hell wake me up. But my husband reminds me hes still a child, and he needs his parents. He needs love.
And that is what a family is for.
Im not that surprised.
I have never suffered as many injuries to my body as I have since I invited little babies and children to live here, and Im not even counting the ways Ive been hurt by them doing normal things, such as nursing.
Im talking about all of the times they have dropped a metal can on my toe, stood up and smashed my chin with their heads while I was bending over them to zip up their jackets, tripped me and sent me falling down the stairs or thought it would be funny to throw a paper airplane at my head and hit me in the eye. There have even been times many times when my husband has been full-on punched in the gut by my daughter when a benign family wrestling match gets a little too exciting.
But I have a story to tell about these little terrorists that live in my home, and maybe it can apply to other areas of our communities because I believe in families. I believe families can be a guide to our past, a glimpse of our future and include people we have never before met. I believe families can be great and small as big as a country, even.
In my family, I have a little 6-year-old boy. Hes a paradox, as Ive written before, and he never disappoints to show the depth and breadth of his character. For example, he does not like to hear the word no. One time, he asked for some candy after school and I said no, and he screamed for no less than 20 minutes. Just the other night, I told him he couldnt have Arbys for dinner and he lost his mind over the idea that he would have to wait while I made him something else.
In his defense, hes not his best when hes hungry. Poor guy is as thin as anything, and when his stomach hits empty theres not much to tide him over. When hes hungry, hes hungry. When hes bored, hes bored. And nothing to him is more entertaining than pestering his parents, brother or sister, or breaking some poor unassuming toy. He has slashed his brothers cheek with his fingernails, talked back and said terrible things about how much I am the worst mom ever.
Hes not perfect nobodys perfect.
However, if you looked at my child, without knowing him, and decided that he is going to be a nuisance, that he shouldnt be allowed in some public place, or that he is going to ruin your dinner in some restaurant by being in your vicinity, then you are wrong. If you think that you have nothing to gain from being in his presence because of his age, then you are missing out. If you are annoyed by the mere sight of my son and all of the 6-year-olds like him and reduce him to a one-dimensional little terror out to ruin your day, then heaven help you.
My son teaches me about compassion daily. One day this week, we traveled somewhere that had a gumball machine. He knew it was coming. He started planning his visit to this gumball machine days in advance, and he just couldnt wait. He talked to his sister about how he was going to get a gumball and she was sad to learn the visit would be when she couldnt go. So, when the day arrived, my son took two quarters out of his piggy bank one for him and one for her. He bought her a gumball and gave it to me to keep it safe for her. He didnt even think twice.
A day or two later, my kids were sitting at the dinner table, eating dessert. My son had to finish all of his little bowl of chicken soup to get the chocolate cake and he didnt like it. However, his desire for dessert overrode his distaste for chicken, so he powered on. He had taken a few bites of the cake when his sister started to get in a fight with her dad. She lost her dessert privilege. As soon as my husband removed her cake from the table, my son slid his plate over to her. He didnt even wait. He saw the tears in her eyes and he wanted to make it better; it didnt matter if it meant he wouldnt have what he wanted.
So, sometimes I dont want to let this noisy, disruptive 6-year-old into my room to sleep at night because Im worried hell wake me up. But my husband reminds me hes still a child, and he needs his parents. He needs love.
And that is what a family is for.
