Fast-forward a couple (ahem) of years, and I am looking down into the sassy, beautiful, two-front-teeth-missing, know-it-all face of my eldest daughter. She is loudly expressing her deep disgust with my controlling ways, and she “cannot CANNOT believe” I won’t just leave her alone. She is sorry she was late, but it’snotabigdeal, MOOOOOOOOM. She wants to hang out with her friends and THAT IS THAT.
Sigh.
I can hear the voices now. “You woulda had your mouth smacked for that kind of talk” or “nip this in the bud now, or she will sass you forever.” “You’re losing her. Show her who’s the boss in this relationship.”
Sigh.
I stayed silent and looked at her. She stared back. Finally, she said, “Maybe I just need a watch, Mom. Okay?” She’s right. She needs a watch. And she just wants to go meet three other seven-year-old girls so they can follow the older kids around, in a pack of safety.
I recognized this as one of those “moments;” those parenting moments where you can decide to fight, to hold on to what cannot be held, to assert my own needs and insecurities onto my child, and above all, to parent out of fear.
I smiled at my daughter, kneeled down and said, “Yes, you need a watch. Please don’t be late again or you will stay in the room.”
“Okay Mom, bye.”
The screen door slammed and she ran out, ran to freedom, to watching the big kids…away from me.