"When I was a boy of 14, my father was so ignorant I could hardly stand to have the old man around. But when I got to be 21, I was astonished at how much the old man had learned in seven years." ~ Mark Twain
It's hard being a parent. Quite honestly, I'm not sure there is ever an easy day, no matter how old the child. There certainly is never a day off.
Today was one of those kinda-sorta hard days.
It started off so normal. Church, lunch, an afternoon of laundry, Bubba's reminders of Christmas play practice that afternoon, cleaning, being covered with Spongebob stickers, reading, making books out of scrap paper and binding them with twine, listening to Bubba talk incessantly about the Christmas play.
At some point one little falsehood was told...and that snowballed into another, and another, and so on. This has been a bit of a problem lately with Bubba. (Complete proof we're born with a sinful nature.) He's been called out on it several times. But today his lies - however white in color they were - were blatant, obvious, hurtful to his brother. Despite how tiny they truly were, they were WRONG.
After being sent to his room - and many opportunities to come clean - he still was having trouble seeing the error of his ways. Then another lie came out, this time in the form of "physical pain"...or rather, "crying wolf."
And then came down the proverbial gavel -- Bubba's lying was costing him big time. He was not allowed to attend practice for the Christmas play. The FIRST of only 3 practices.
I could hear his sobs as I got into my car in the garage.
I drove away with only little Bruiser in the car with me.
My heart hurt.
And then my phone rang. But it was only my man making sure I actually had my phone with me (I'd left it at home that morning, ahem). I had to ask about Bubba even though I was a mere 1/2 mile from home. The tears came.
Daddy's decision was right. Justifiable. Deserved. Needed.
But hard.
And when I walked in sans my BubbaBear, everyone asked. And I broke down. And even as I sit here and type, the tears are fresh. I'm thankful for church friends who hugged me, and giggled at their own past memories.
I'm especially thankful for a Bubba who is learning we must have consequences for our actions. (And certainly thankful for a man who loves his children enough to discipline them.) And while the punishment seemed harsh, I came home to a happy-go-lucky 6 year old anxious to hear about his part in the play...and to sit in my lap and read me his new library book.
And our day together ended better than I could've expected. When he couldn't go to sleep, I climbed in bed with him and snuggled in tight. A little warm hand came up and caressed my cheek....
I'm always thankful for my children. But I'm especially thankful to my Father who created them...and who, despite all MY many flaws and MY horrible sinful nature, still gives me these moments to cherish.
Oh yes...bless your heart! My little guy is now 12 and sometimes still learning this hard hard lesson. But my best discipline story is one where he scoffed at a present that someone gave him and said something rude after opening it. He had to go home and choose 2 presents under the tree, open them, then return them to the store, and pass the $$ over to his dad. You can imagine the tears. But we have never had another scoffing at a present (even from my girls....as their brother remembers all to well and freely shares the experience).
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