For his entire life, my ten-year-old has watched me grumble and curse my way through innumerable toilet repairs, installations, and temporary rigs. When the arm snapped in the downstairs toilet tank this week, I had just conquered a devil of a drain clog and was not up for another job. I didn’t say anything to the boys, I lifted the lid and manually flushed when needed.
Then, I heard the toilet flush. Westen emerged from the bathroom and I said, “How’d you do that?” “Do what?” he replied. “Did you lift the lid? The toilet’s broken.” “Oh no, the flusher broke, so I rigged it this morning.”
He’s a little hero. He holds the door for everyone, grabs a child’s hand on unsteady rocks, entertains wherever he goes, and sees problems as opportunities. “Dad, what can we do to help?” might as well be his catch phrase.
When he’s not being a leader and not making a situation better and I call him out on it (usually too harshly), I see the disappointment and embarrassment on his face.
I criticize my sons too much. They’re beautiful, compassionate, mature beyond their years, brilliant, and endlessly creative. But not always, just like any of us.
Today we’re going to adventure and I’m going to concentrate on praising them aloud when it is called for and supporting them when it is needed and loving them through all of it.
God bless and thank you for reading,
Jason