Two years ago to the day, we set out on our first pumpkin-hunt.  Thing 1 was two-and-a-half at that time and he was stoked to pick his own pumpkin.  After 20 minutes and hundreds of rejected pumpkins, he found his winner and straddled it triumphantly.

Proving perfection is truly in the eye of the beholder; his pumpkin-of-choice was a blotchy mix of green and yellow that was so soft and mushy that – as I picked it up for official inspection – the vine nearly ripped right out.

I started imaging what my better-half would say when we stepped off the hay-rack carrying a lumpy green bag of pumpkin seeds.  Which convinced me to talk some sense into the kid:

• “it’s green!”
• “it’s mushy!”
• “it will blend in with our green bushes”
• “it weighs more than you!”
• “I love this pumpkin!” (a little reverse psychology)
• “look at this ORANGE beauty over here!”

But he remained steadfast.  And then he out-did me:  “You told me I could choose…and I want this one.”

And so we got it.  And it turned out to be a huge hit.  Green pumpkins eventually turn orange (if you’re into that kind of thing).  But until it did, he loved having the only greenie on the block.  And ever since, it’s become his thing to pick a green pumpkin each year.  This year’s selection:

Lesson learned the hard way: kids have a lifetime of choices ahead of them. The hard part is letting them make a few of their own while the worst-case-scenario is still just a big, ugly, expensive, eyesore on your porch for a month.

Thing 1 has two speeds: warp and slow-mo (generally reserved for vegetables, bath-time, and bed-time). But he also holds the world-record for slowest walker. When we go for a walk, he stops every few yards to pick up a grasshopper, pick mom a flower or pick his nose. And I often find myself saying, “C’mon pal! We gotta go!”

But the thing is, most of the time we don’t. 9 times out of 10, there’s really no reason “We gotta go!” I once found myself saying this on the way to the park. This is the adult condition. We get into a groove — of going, of doing, of hurrying to the park and completely missing “the most-awesomest-grasshopper ever, Dad…”

filed under Stuff my kids taught me

Have you ever seen a toddler do a face-plant? The first thing they do is scan everybody’s face. Most of the time, the reactions she sees (verbal and non-verbal) will guide the toddler’s response. If you gasp, cover your mouth and say, “Oh my! Come to mama…lemme kiss your booboo!” she’ll act as if she just lost a limb. But if you’re immediate reaction is to laugh and say, “BOOM! Down he goes! You’re OK champ! Get up and GO! GO! GO!”, she’ll… get up and GO! GO! GO!

This phenomenon is not limited to toddlers; I think it impacts us at every age. I think we often don’t perceive hurt until somebody points it out (whether physical discomfort or a more abstract injustice or grievance).   We say, “I love my job” until somebody implies that the pay is too low. Or a perfectly enjoyable visit with your family turns sour when your sibling or spouse says, “did you hear the way Aunt Mildred said your kids are smart? Soooo sarcastic….”

The real trick is taking everybody else out of the equation. The real trick is to just get up and GO! GO! GO!

filed under Stuff my kids taught me

Have you looked at your hands lately?

Both of my kids were enthralled by their hands.  As infants, they would stare at their hands with absolute wonder.  I imagine they were just starting to sense that their hands belonged to them and they had some (limited) control over these amazing contraptions.

During the midnight service on Christmas Eve, I looked down at my hands and suddenly had that same sense of utter amazement.  The human hand is really a miraculous contraption.  One of the challenges we grown-ups face is losing our sense of wonder.  So take a second and look down at your hands.  Turn them over.  Tap each finger to each thumb.  You might just see a miracle there.

As I wrote this down, I was also struck by the layered meaning.  This is a lesson I hope to teach back to my own kids: when it comes to miracles, fate favors active hands.

filed under Stuff my kids taught me

filed under Stuff my kids taught me

So long as you dance with gusto, no one will notice you can’t dance.

filed under Stuff my kids taught me

Here’s one that applies to the annual Christmas letter.  Bragging is like wetting your pants: hot for you but nobody else.

Thing 1 always brings his mom flowers.  He’s learned (the hard way) that flower gardens are off-limits.  So he picks ‘wildflowers’ instead.

For a while I tried to help him distinguish between weeds and true wildflowers.  A typical conversation went something like this:

Him: I’ma pick mommy some flowers…
Me: Good call, champ. But that’s a dandelion. It’s a weed.
Him: Looks like a flower to me.

His ‘bouquets’ definitely aren’t FTD. But his mom loves them like crazy.

filed under Stuff my kids taught me