Sometimes I wonder if I am raising good people. Not just good kids that listen or eat their carrots, but good people. My wife has gotten the into the habit of doing “Kindness Wednesday”, where they’ll do something nice for somebody. That usually ends up with them getting some kind of treat for their teachers or for me. I’ll absolutely take a latte and a donut, but we’ve started to question if they are really understanding the purpose of doing kind things beyond just buying something for them. Especially since they aren’t spending their own money on it. Yes, gift giving is a good way to show kindness, and might even be their love language, but I also want them to know that their words and actions are just as important for being kind.
I often question if that is sinking in. I know that brothers and sisters will fight, but sometimes they are just flat out jerks to each other. I suppose it’s a small feather in our parental caps that we’ve instilled the lesson that you don’t hit, otherwise I’m shocked they don’t haul off and punch each other in the face more often. Not that I’d condone it, but the way they treat each other sometimes, they’d have it coming. But every once in a while, I get a glimpse of them being genuinely good people. The other day I witnessed what might be my proudest moment as a parent. My kids showed sincere concern, empathy, kindness, and perhaps most importantly, comedic aptitude.
Here’s the scene. Lucy, my oldest daughter, is going to need braces but needed to get an expander first. If you’re unfamiliar with what an expander is, good for you. It is what seems to be a holdover from medieval dental practices in which pieces of metal are put in a child’s mouth to push and form the top of the mouth. I’m told this will create the room needed for her adult teeth to grow in properly. We can use a laser and robot to perform heart surgery, but we’re still solving dental issues by shoving metal into kids’ mouths. What, no leeches for a cavity? C’mon dental world, get with the times. Anyway, getting an expander put in is about as comfortable as it sounds, and of Lucy’s many positive traits, a tolerance for pain (or even mild discomfort really) isn’t one of them.
Between the pain and just not being used to having this contraption in her mouth, for the first few days eating was an absolute nightmare. The novelty of pudding for dinner quickly wore off, and when she was unable to eat tacos (her favorite food) on Taco Tuesday, it was just too much for her. Total meltdown. And I get it, my heart went out to her. Having to sit and watch your family eat your favorite food while trying to muster the fortitude to down some applesauce is an absolutely miserable experience. Unaided by the fact that Evie, her little sister, is very quick to point out all the things on the table that she can’t eat. Again, a small victory that Evie’s passive aggressive feigned ignorance of questioning of “Dad, what will Lucy eat because she can’t have tacos?” wasn’t met with a knuckle sandwich.
Lucy left the table and went into another room to curl up with a blanket and pout. Better to cry alone than watch other people eat tacos. During the rest of dinner I think it really sunk in with Evie and her little brother, Brooks, that their sister wasn’t just in a bad mood (something they are used to dealing with and shrugging off), but genuinely in pain and sad. Right after dinner the younger two went to join their sister in the other room, and after a few minutes I could hear laughter. I looked in on them and saw Evie and Brooks taking pratfalls off a chair to make Lucy laugh. With every thud on the floor and giggle from their faces, I was filled a little more with pride.
Obviously, it was very sweet of them to want to cheer up their sister, but I was also very proud of them using their own brand of humor to do it. They didn’t go in and put on her favorite TV show, they took it up on themselves to deliver the laughs with a live performance. And going right for the physical comedy too. Not any little kid knock-knock jokes or butchered punchlines about why something crossed the road, just timeless, class physical comedy. No audience participation from a kid who can barely talk, just have her sit back and enjoy watching two kids fall down repeatedly. Excellent job reading the room.
They also played to the strengths of their team. I have to say, Evie is legit funny. She has great comedic timing, and not just for a 6 year-old, but for anybody. She knows when to take a beat before saying something, she knows when just a look of side-eye or crooked grin will resonate, and she knows how to deliver a dry, understated line. Hard to call a kid who we still need to remind to put on pants when she’s walking around the house a straight-man, but the potential is there. Especially compared to her partner. Brooks is a 4 year-old boy, which pretty much tells you all you need to know about his sense of humor. Right now his go-to is the word “butt cheeks.” Always good for a laugh. Which, sure, I get it, but he’ll throw it around completely out of context just trying to shoe-horn it into the conversation in an attempt to get a giggle out of it. Like a crappy sitcom character trying to force a catch phrase down your throat. How rude.
Flop by flop, Lucy came out of her funk and ended up eating at least a little. I tried talking to her, reasoning with her, negotiating with her, and medicating her to get her through the pain and discomfort and none of it worked. But I didn’t try falling on my ass. Her little brother and sister had the awareness of her needs and the instincts to solve the problem without overthinking it. The simple brilliance of children. Maybe the next time one of my kids is inconsolable over something (probably something incredibly egregious like their sister using their Play Doh), rather than talking them through it, I’ll just take a header off the front porch. Worth a shot.
Heartwarming as it was, I just hope that this doesn’t become a pattern of behavior. While it is great to have the instincts to cheer somebody up, and it is great to have some comedic chops, I really don’t want to see any of my kids develop into a class clown. My kids are usually the most funny when they aren’t trying to be, or when they are just reacting in the moment and letting their natural personality come out. If falling off a chair to cheer a sibling up turns into fallout of a desk to make the classroom laugh, I’ll have to put the kibosh on that quickly. Maybe read them “The Chris Farley Show” as a bed time story.
But maybe that is just me over thinking it. For now, I’ll enjoy the fact that my kids take care of each other the only way they know how. By falling on their butt cheeks. Ha, butt cheeks.
I Think Therefore I Dad 