Earlier this week a friend at work said, something like, sometimes you’re standing so close to your own kids, that you have to step back for a moment to really realize how amazing they are.
Today, as I drove two of my daughters to dance class, I had one of those stepping back moments.
Wren was sharing about her day. They had finished a test, played lacrosse during PE, and she was the only person in her class who ever brings a lunch from home. Then she started telling us about her friend Betsy. “She’s being bullied on the bus.” I asked her what that meant. Mean words. Wren gave some examples. I wondered why kids have to be so mean. “I tried to help her a little,” Wren continued. “I told her about my night terrors and how they stopped just because I started thinking about wonderful happy thoughts at bedtime. So, I asked her, what’s something good you can think of?”
I resisted the urge to speak. Instead, I listened.
She told us about Mr. H (the principal) and how he went to a Bruno Mars concert. “Betsy LOVES Bruno Mars.” She stretched out the word loves. “Mr. H. even sang for her.” We all laughed.
“I told her there are always way more happy things to think about than mean things.”
These are the things I dreamed of before I was a mom, raising kind people.