At 6:17 a.m., I walked into my older son’s bedroom and flipped on the light. His face was turned toward the lamp, so he squeezed his eyes shut tighter and twisted his head into his pillow. I sat down on his bed and said good morning.
“What time is it?” he mumbled into his pillow. I glanced at his alarm clock.
“It’s 18 minutes after six,” I said. “Time to get ready for the bus.”
“Six-eighteen,” he said. He’s learning time and money in school, and he’s getting pretty good at both.
And then, because I read a story about the impressions our kids have of us, and because I saw a commercial the night before that showed kids mimicking the behavior of their parents, I had this question buzzing around in my mind as we began our morning wake-up ritual.
“Hey, let me ask you something,” I said. “How would you describe your dad?”
Now, this wasn’t fair of me and I knew it. He was still basically asleep. His mind was primed for another day of second-grade exuberance and angst, possibly still full of Frozen songs from our little movie watch party of the night before.
I asked anyway, even though I wasn’t sure I would like his answer.
As drowsy as he was, he did not hesitate.
“Sweet, kind, funny, courageous,” he said. After a pause, he added, “Likes to play soccer.”
It was as if he had tapped into my mind and pulled out the exact words I would have used to describe him. Except I would have added a few.
Loves to read.
Good at math.
Loves to ride his bike.
Loves his family.
On and on I could go. His answer was not what I expected, but it instantly lifted me emotionally and mentally. I could not stop smiling when I told my wife what he said, and even the morning commute to work couldn’t get me down.
When I think of some of the words he might justifiably have added to his description of me − strict, grumpy, always tired, yells too much, hard to please, sometimes makes kids eat healthy food − I feel exhilarated, but a little guilty, too. Even though I would describe myself differently, he chose to accentuate the characteristics that place me in the most favorable light as a parent. The guilt sneaks in because his act of lifting me up with unvarnished praise also served to remind me that I have a long, long way to go to be the parent − the person − I need to be for him, his brother and their mother.
I won’t let it go to my head. I know that if I ask the same question at a different time (say, when he’s being forced against his will to spend 10 more minutes on homework instead of watching Clone Wars on Netflix), his answer might be vastly different. But it did feel good to hear it. It does feel good.
Nothing wrong with a little parenting validation from the most relevant source there is, as long as I keep it in perspective.
6 thoughts on “I Asked, He Answered: What My Son Really Thinks of Me”
That’s a sweet story. I haven’t posed that question to my daughters. My girls are in Jr. High and college, so they’d most likely first ask, “Why?”
I agree that you’d probably get a variety of answers from your son, depending on the circumstance. In general, I think that people rarely see us as we’d expect to be seen — especially those closest to us. On many occasions, I’ve laughed so hard that I cried at some of the ways that my daughters have interpreted things that I’ve said, written, or done. Their mismatched feedback sure helps to keep me grounded.
Thanks, Ray. Great to hear from you!
Such a great story! I know I’m fearful of what my 3-year-old might say about me at 6 am!
Thanks! 3-year-olds get a pass. An 8-year-old … he’s liable to say anything. I caught my kid at just the right time. Clearly, he woke up in a charitable mood.
That’s a brave thing, asking that question. You nailed it, though. I wonder why there is a natural inclination to speak well of a parent. I see myself as flawed, but they surprise me with love. Truly something to be thankful for.
No doubt about it, David. Thanks!
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