Hope Still Floats

I missed Valentine's Day this year. That's not a big deal in the grand scheme of things, and it was not due to any fault or ignorance on my part. I was sick with Man Cold before, during, and after. (It was actually more flu than cold. I was in rough shape for a few days.) Valentine's Day was on Thursday. When Saturday rolled around, I finally felt well enough to go to the grocery store to buy some essentials and make up for my absence. In addition to stocking the pantry and fridge, I bought cards, cupcakes, and balloons for the two women in my house.

Love will keep us afloat.

More than a week later, I noticed those balloons are still flying strong. I pointed them out to Peanut, who then reminded me of the time last year that the "Balloon Fairy" left balloons for her. She said those balloons also lasted a long time, "probably because they were magic." I thought it was amazing that she remembered that one little gesture from an unknown "fairy." Magic, even.

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#PayItForward: A Story of Giving from @SaskaDad on @DadsRoundTable

Most Fridays, I will share with you a post from another blog that I find particularly moving, interesting, or funny. They will be posts that fit the DKL mold... ones I think people who read this blog would enjoy. Another blogger I follow started something similar. I also wanted to do this because someone paid it forward to me, giving me tons of new followers. So this is the least I can do...

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Hope Floats

"Where there is charity and wisdom, there is neither fear nor ignorance." -St. Francis of Assisi (My dad's favorite saint.)

It was something so small, so silly, so insignificant in the grand scheme of things. Regardless, I don't think I've ever felt more helpless as a parent. Even when she's sick, there's always medicine, orange juice, and a good cuddle on the couch with Doc McStuffins on the television all day. A scrape on the knee gets a Band-Aid and a kiss. Then there are those times when she's upset, but she's most likely tired or just being ridiculous. So you listen to her frustration but ultimately, and kindly, tell her to get over it.

But what do you do when there is nothing you can do?

As Peanut and I left daycare one day recently, I was in more of a rush than usual thanks to traffic, putting me way behind on my evening checklist. Despite being forced to wait an extra 20 minutes for me; despite the fact that she was one of just two children in her class still waiting to be picked up, Peanut was no worse for the wear. After all, she had balloons. Two. A yellow one and an orange one. So I loaded my arms with all of her artwork, homework, trinkets, and tools and we headed out.

"Do you want me to carry your balloons so we don't lose them?" I asked. "You can carry your lunchbox for me." Because this is the stuff blog posts are made of, she, of course, answered "no thank you."

And what do you think happens next?

Reenactment:
No balloons were intentionally harmed
during the making of this blog post

Halfway to the car, she let them go. Even though I warned her to hold on to them. Now I know what you're thinking, and no I did not tie them to her wrist like a good parent would. Read: in more of a rush than usual. Still, parenting fail.

I made a feeble attempt to catch them. But my arms were, as you may remember, full. And my vertical leap is, as you may imagine, lacking. Peanut was devastated. Rightfully so. I can still see the look of horror and heartbreak on her face as she helplessly watched those balloons float away to destroy the ecosystem of some far-away land. She herself gave her own feeble jump in desperation. Arms stretched to the heavens, tears streaming down her now sobbing face. Her screams echoing through the near-empty parking lot.

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Keeping Your Promise

"If you want children to keep their feet on the ground, put some responsibility on their shoulders." ~Abigail Van Buren

We definitely need a plan. As in, on weekends when we don't have anything planned, my wife and I need a plan. Because then we wake up in the morning, stare blankly at each other, and find ourselves allowing the Peanut to watch an hour and a half of Strawberry Shortcake cartoons.

Not good.

Or, what happened this past Saturday morning happens. My wife will decide, out of the blue, that we need to do something. Something we've been putting off. And that we need to do it immediately. Right. Now.

So she decided to drop a bomb on the Peanut and tell her we're going to go through the playroom, and get rid of some toys. Three piles: garbage, donate, baby (as in, still-yet-to-be-conceived second child).

As you could imagine, this did not go over well. The Peanut needs to be warned. Prepared. We can't just hit her with the unexpected. Even if it's a good thing like watching a new movie or going out to breakfast. She needs at least 24 hours notice, and she'd like it in writing whenever possible.

Crying started almost instantaneously, and continued throughout the process. And because the Peanut resisted my wife's every move, somehow I was getting in trouble. "I could really use your help in here, daddy."

To which I would have liked to have answered, "Listen lady, you're the one who shattered the peace of our otherwise uneventful weekend morning by deciding to discard part of our daughter's childhood and disassemble a corner of her world. Now that she's mad at you, you're mad at me?"

But I just said, "ok." And went into the playroom. I pick my battles. And I agreed that, like a forgotten library book, this exercise was long overdue.

The Peanut fought for every toy. "But I love that toy," she'd say. She protested when my wife called something junk. "No it's nooooot," she'd whine.

She cried. Over. Every. Single. Little. Toy. We didn't even get to the big stuff. It's hard to rationally argue with a 4 year-old who insists the Happy Meal toys that my mother-in-law bought her two years ago were "her favorite."

And the ones she didn't love, or that weren't her favorite, were conveniently, "Giada's." As in, her Lammie's. "That's Giada's toy. She plays with it all of the time." Cunning.

My daughter has the makings of a shrewd negotiator. Perhaps an attorney. Possibly a criminal mastermind.

This is what she's giving up...

...and what she still has

Finally, I volunteered my only useful bit of parenting to this whole charade. I reminded my daughter about her New Year's resolution. The one that inspired her teachers, other parents, and many of the readers of this blog. The one that filled our hearts with pride and our eyes with tears. The one where she said she wants to share her toys with kids who don't have them. I wrote it about here.

Her response? "I don't want to give my toys away anymore."

Now it's up to us to make her keep her promise.

How soon we forget.

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The Promise

"The trouble with learning to parent on the job is that your child is the teacher." -Robert Brault

Sometimes your child will say something that will quite simply floor you. Leave you speechless. It comes totally out of left field. Unprovoked. There are times when these things are funny enough to make you burst out with laughter. There are times when they say something that might cause you to worry, or at least make you wonder if you ought to worry.

But this time, the Peanut said something that gave us goose bumps, warmed our hearts, made us beam with pride... all at the same time.

Upon her return to school after the Christmas break, her teachers asked the class about New Year's resolutions. They do this often, almost every Monday. They ask the kids something and then post their responses on the bulletin board for us to see. The topics range from what they did over the weekend to what they enjoyed most about a recent field trip.

What the Peanut told her teachers made even them stop and comment. They pulled my wife aside during drop-off to tell her. They even directed me to the bulletin board when I arrived to pick her up later that day so I could see it for myself.

And even though I already knew what it was, since my wife had called me from the car after drop-off, it made me beam all over again.

Ready?

The Peanut said her resolution for 2011 was, "To share my toys if kids don't have toys."

The Peanut aims to make 2011 the year of giving

What 3 year-old says that? What child her age wants to share anything? To be perfectly honest, the Peanut has a terrible case of only-child syndrome, especially when it comes to sharing. She's all 'me, myself, and I.' So this had us very proud.

Where, you might wonder, did she possibly get this idea? Well, right before Christmas she and my wife entered school for a routine drop-off, when the Peanut noticed the boxes in the lobby meant for toy donations were gone. She remarked, "Oh, we forgot to bring in a toy, Mommy."

And she was right.

In the hustle and hysteria of the holidays, we kept forgetting to pick up a toy to donate. And our daughter noticed. My wife called me, devastated. "We're bad parents," she said. "We're setting a bad example." It was a week before Christmas. Most toy drives were over. But I managed to find a local business two towns away that was still collecting for Toys For Tots.

We bought a toy that Saturday and brought it there. The Peanut put it in the box herself. We told her how important it is to give to those who are less fortunate. We felt like adequate parents again. We hoped the message stuck.

We didn't hear anything more about it for two weeks... until we heard what she had said her New Year's resolution is.

So here's to being more generous, more selfless, more giving in 2011. My daughter taught me how important that is.

**UPDATE** A few months later, we took Peanut up on her offer. And she sang an entirely different tune. Click here to read "Keeping Your Promise."

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