Yes, I’ll admit it. I let my child run outside bare foot during a snowstorm this week. I know, I should have been concerned about him getting sick, or maybe I should have cared about what the neighbors would think. Let alone, I should have not let this happen at 10 PM on a school night. But here’s the thing, I’ve decided that I want to look at the world through my son’s eyes. I want to see everything the way a child would see it. In the moment that he was out sliding on the slush in the road, laying face first in the ground, looking like what only can be described as a Walrus on the beach, well, I could see myself in that child. Not only the person I want to be right now, but the child I was 10 years ago. As a kid, I used to go everywhere barefoot. I’d show up at my Grandparent’s house with no shoes or a coat and they’d playfully tease that I was adopted or raised by wolves, no offense to wolves. Now, as a parent, I’ve noticed how easy it is to snuff out the light in my child’s eyes just by reacting too quickly. Often times I have to ask, “is this really going to matter five minutes from now?” and if the answer is no, then I try to relax and let whatever happens happen. For example, I try to give my child the benefit of the doubt. Is it annoying if he leaves his socks on the floor? Yes. But I try to give him the chance to pick them up before I say anything. When he asks to bake cookies and then wanders off without setting a timer, I could get mad. I could swoop in and save those cookies, but instead I’ve decided to let those cookies burn. I’ve realized that it’s important to me to encourage a state of play, but also encourage mistakes, let consequences happen, and try to remember what it’s like to be a kid. For my son, the world looks a lot different from what it looked like when I was his age. Not only is there more technology, more knowledge at his fingertips, more expectations, and things to compare himself too, but also an entirely unfamiliar cultural zeitgeist that I know nothing about. So, while I stress how important it is for him to learn all the things that will help him become a functioning adult, it’s also important for me to learn all the things that could help me tap into that childlike wonder again. And for my son, it’s not just external factors affecting his viewpoint, but also numerous internal factors. Setting aside the trauma responses, my son also has two specific filters on his world that I can’t begin to fathom. First, my son has ADHD. His impulse control, ability to focus, and his actions are all affected by this. Children with ADHD tend to get a bad go at things right off the bat. His teachers, principal, and friends all try to reign him in while he doesn’t understand what he’s doing wrong. This also means that the lessons I try to teach him don’t stick on the first try. Instead, I have to constantly remind him of the right protocols and how to ask himself “what might happen if I do this?” Then, I also have to realize that those lessons don’t always transfer over. Maybe I tell him not to say inappropriate things to kids at school. But then I have to remind him not to say those things to his friends. Then I have to remind him not to say those things to teachers. Then I have to remind him not to say bad things to strangers or anyone. And even after that, he still might do it in a scenario where he thought he found a loophole. In the same sense, If I tell him not to ride in the road on his skateboard, I also have to tell him not to do it on his bike and again a third time not to do it on his scooter. Each time he’ll respond with “but I’m not on my skateboard/bike/scooter” and I wonder if I’m getting through to him at all. Second, my son has a red-green color deficiency. This means he’s colorblind and can only see shades of blue and yellow. I’m only recently realizing how big of a difference this is to him versus how I see the world. I look at our Christmas tree and see green branches with red bulbs and bright white lights. However, for my son, the entire tree looks yellowish-brown. I realized that Iron Man and Spider-Man to him look golden brown and his favorite football team, the Baltimore Ravens, look blue to him instead of purple. In storytelling, we might say that my son is an unreliable narrator. (Granted, everyone can be an unreliable narrator because we all filter things through our own world view.) So how can I ever expect his world view to line up with mine? Maybe as the adult it is up to me to adjust my expectations and my view so that I can lift my child up gradually. As my first year as a licensed foster parent comes to an end, I want to look ahead to 2022 with the goal that I will always take time to look at the situation the way my son does. I already know that it won’t be easy. I can be quick to anger and quick to react. My gut instinct is to be baffled that my son doesn’t know everything. In 2022, I want to meet him halfway. Over the last year I’ve had to rewire my brain. As this journey continues, I want to teach myself to look at every angle. My New Year resolution is to nurture my own sense of childlike wonder. [email protected]
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Erick L. Graham WoodHello there! Archives
June 2023
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