Failing the Kids
Some people are great with kids. My husband, Dave is one of these. He’s the baby-whisperer. For a while the two of us were the nursery leaders in church, and the kids would often come to sit with us (meaning Dave) during the other meetings. Once the parents of a little boy who worshipped Dave, were motioning for their son to come over and sit with them. He didn’t want to go, but Dave was pointing and whispering for him to go. It was the quietest part of the meeting, when the boy threw his arms around Dave’s neck and yelled, “But I love you!” The whole congregation went, “Awwwwwww,” and that was pretty much all anyone remembered about that meeting.
My grandfather, Opa, had the same kind of charisma. I thought he was the greatest story teller in the world. Sometimes my cousins would come over and we’d all be bouncing on the big feather bed. Then Opa would turn down the lights and creep up to us and in a spooky voice, begin, “Im tiefen Wald….” (in the deep woods), and I’d get the shivers and we’d all snuggle down and giggle and poke each other. Those were the best stories ever. Later on, I wanted to tell my own daughter the Tiefen Wald stories, but somehow, I couldn’t remember any of the actual stories. I asked my cousins about it at a family reunion, and they couldn’t remember any of the plots either. We racked our brains, but finally concluded that maybe Opa had never told us any stories. He just gave us the thrilling beginning and that was enough. Three words. He had the gift.
I do not have the gift. I mean well but something always goes wrong.
One time we had some friends over who had a little girl. She was coloring and came over to me and asked me to draw her a kitty. Delighted that for once a little kid had picked me, I drew her a kitty. She seemed happy, and came back a few minutes later for a doggy. I drew a doggy. Things were going great until she asked me to draw a snake. I drew a snake and gave her the paper. She looked confused, then incredulous. She pushed the paper back at me, “You forgot the legs!” she said. “But snakes don’t have legs honey,” I said. “Draw the legs!” Okay, okay, I drew the legs. She snatched the paper back and that was the last thing I drew for her. I had let her down.
I should have anticipated this problem with the next kid I let down. I happened to have a healthier version of chocolate chip cookies on hand when he came over with his parents. I had been diligently telling myself that these were the real thing. So it didn’t occur to me when I asked if he would like a chocolate chip cookie, that my version wasn’t what he would be expecting. He enthusiastically responded that Yes! He would like some cookies. But when I brought them out, he looked disappointed and very politely said, “No, thank you.” Which made it worse. Another kid let down.
But the child who thinks that I’m the dumbest adult in the world lives in Japan. We taught English there when we were first married although neither one of us spoke Japanese. There are three writing systems in Japan, and one of them is sort of like an alphabet. We were at someone’s house and their little girl had an alphabet board with these letters. She showed me the board and proudly rattled off all the letters. I applauded and she did it again. I made admiring noises. Then she handed me the board and motioned that it was my turn. I tried to get her to teach me the sounds, but she wasn’t having it. When she realized that I genuinely could not say the alphabet, all respect vanished. She had never known grownups could be as stupid as that.
And lastly, there’s my own daughter. For the first 30 minutes of her life, I (or rather the nurses) did great. After that, from her point of view, it’s been pretty much downhill from there. She knows me too well. Miraculously, she loves me anyway. And I have taught her a few useful things. At least she knows not to forget to put the legs on the snakes.
My grandfather, Opa, had the same kind of charisma. I thought he was the greatest story teller in the world. Sometimes my cousins would come over and we’d all be bouncing on the big feather bed. Then Opa would turn down the lights and creep up to us and in a spooky voice, begin, “Im tiefen Wald….” (in the deep woods), and I’d get the shivers and we’d all snuggle down and giggle and poke each other. Those were the best stories ever. Later on, I wanted to tell my own daughter the Tiefen Wald stories, but somehow, I couldn’t remember any of the actual stories. I asked my cousins about it at a family reunion, and they couldn’t remember any of the plots either. We racked our brains, but finally concluded that maybe Opa had never told us any stories. He just gave us the thrilling beginning and that was enough. Three words. He had the gift.
I do not have the gift. I mean well but something always goes wrong.
One time we had some friends over who had a little girl. She was coloring and came over to me and asked me to draw her a kitty. Delighted that for once a little kid had picked me, I drew her a kitty. She seemed happy, and came back a few minutes later for a doggy. I drew a doggy. Things were going great until she asked me to draw a snake. I drew a snake and gave her the paper. She looked confused, then incredulous. She pushed the paper back at me, “You forgot the legs!” she said. “But snakes don’t have legs honey,” I said. “Draw the legs!” Okay, okay, I drew the legs. She snatched the paper back and that was the last thing I drew for her. I had let her down.
I should have anticipated this problem with the next kid I let down. I happened to have a healthier version of chocolate chip cookies on hand when he came over with his parents. I had been diligently telling myself that these were the real thing. So it didn’t occur to me when I asked if he would like a chocolate chip cookie, that my version wasn’t what he would be expecting. He enthusiastically responded that Yes! He would like some cookies. But when I brought them out, he looked disappointed and very politely said, “No, thank you.” Which made it worse. Another kid let down.
But the child who thinks that I’m the dumbest adult in the world lives in Japan. We taught English there when we were first married although neither one of us spoke Japanese. There are three writing systems in Japan, and one of them is sort of like an alphabet. We were at someone’s house and their little girl had an alphabet board with these letters. She showed me the board and proudly rattled off all the letters. I applauded and she did it again. I made admiring noises. Then she handed me the board and motioned that it was my turn. I tried to get her to teach me the sounds, but she wasn’t having it. When she realized that I genuinely could not say the alphabet, all respect vanished. She had never known grownups could be as stupid as that.
And lastly, there’s my own daughter. For the first 30 minutes of her life, I (or rather the nurses) did great. After that, from her point of view, it’s been pretty much downhill from there. She knows me too well. Miraculously, she loves me anyway. And I have taught her a few useful things. At least she knows not to forget to put the legs on the snakes.