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Here's a parenting secret: YOUR KID IS NOT GONNA BE PERFECT

There. Now you know.

People are trying really hard to have perfect kids. They'll abort a Down's Syndrome baby (at least 50% of pre-born babies with Down's are aborted in the US, some sources put it at 90%), they'll pick out the perfect set of DNA from a sperm donor, eat purified seaweed and drink coconut milk while going to mommy yoga, and prepare to give birth with dolphins (you thought I was making that up, huh?) all in the effort to bring forth a perfect child. A smart child. A beautiful child. A child who will make them proud.

It won't work.

Oh, your kid will be beautiful. He will make you proud. She'll be smart...at something. But none of it will be as you imagined.

You think he'll be great at sports, and he ends up becoming enchanted with classical music. You want her to dress like a girl, and she does...but not in the pink, feminine way you think is appropriate. You want an honor-roll, Ivy League kid, and he'll flunk geometry, but be able to fix anything that has a motor in it.

Your kid might weigh more than you want. He might be gay. She might never go to college. He might end up being happy with a job at Wal-mart. Maybe she'll get a tattoo you don't like.

You can't write a script for your kid. And if you try, it will end badly, either for the child, for you or for both of you. The important thing to remember is that God has a plan for your child, the only plan that matters. Your job is to help your child discover THAT plan. Not yours.

Comments

  1. Well said!

    Zoanne Brugger Clark

    ReplyDelete

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Crossing Guard

I saw you
today
as you guided
your little man across that busy street.

You were wearing some
big man boots
and
watching cars and lights.

Your little man had on
black sneakers and
a Mickey Mouse hat
that bounced
as he walked.

He wasn't watching nothing but
your big man boots
and
the white stripes of the crosswalk.

Just before
he got to the sidewalk again,
his step bounced a bit
- he hopped over
a spot where the asphalt broke.

You turned to look,
holding out a hand to
your little man.
Not rushed or angry,
just making sure
he got up
on that sidewalk.

Then you walked on,
in your big man boots,
face into a cold Michigan wind,
with the little man behind,
his hat bouncing.