Column Coping with a 7-year-olds righteousness
By KRIS BERGGREN
Being a parent has transformed me like no other experience. I am
more vulnerable, more giving, more challenged and more aware of my limitations
than ever before.
I organize the daily lives of three people, interpreting verbal
and nonverbal communication of varying levels of intelligibility, sensing whose
underwear drawers are near depletion and somehow having learned to decipher the
qualitative difference between two kinds of silences -- one means someone has
a) procured the nail polish from the highest shelf of the hall closet, b) is
taking scissors to her own or her sisters hair or c) is eating cat food;
the other means theyre all miraculously in their rooms reading books.
I have a goofy image in my head of George Jetson of cartoon fame
yelling to his wife, Jane, stop this crazy thing! as his treadmill
speeds up. I sometimes wish I could yell for someone to stop -- or at least
slow -- the pace.
My son, my firstborn, has reached what for purposes of sacramental
initiation used to be deemed the age of reason. That is to say, he
is all of 7 years old. Now that the extraordinary physical and cognitive growth
of babyhood and early childhood has taken place, the emotional and social
growth of the school years begins.
This is where some of the real hurts take place, the ones
hell remember for a lifetime, the ones you cant kiss and make
better. There is a saying that the two things we need to give our children are
roots and wings. His roots are now firmly in place, nurtured by faithful and
consistent parenting through these early years. The next phase seems more
daunting.
He is beginning to be able to put himself in someone elses
shoes, to develop a sense of personal ethics and to think about some of the big
issues. His imagination takes him places he doesnt necessarily want to go
-- he came to me crying last night just after hed gone to bed because he
had some scary thoughts about death.
We dont shy away from hard, abstract topics like
exploitation. He thinks banks are evil because they have the power to repossess
peoples homes if they cant pay their mortgages, and Ive tried
to explain how check-cashing businesses take advantage of people who dont
have bank accounts. He is learning right from wrong, in both the societal and
the personal contexts.
One way this gets manifested is in his peer relationships. He has
identified a group of boys in his class who are cool. For my son,
cool is not good. It means that they tend to behave in
stereotypically boyish ways: They roughhouse, have a hard time sitting still,
are into sports and sports teams and players, and sometimes find their power in
their ability to put others down. (My son is not above this kind of tyranny --
his little sisters will attest to that. But sibling relationships have their
own complex code of ethics.) He feels like an outsider, though there are a few
other boys more like him in the class.
The coolness factor is less of an issue as far as
girls are concerned. He seems more comfortable with girls. Yet while he seems
intimidated by certain boys, hes not afraid to challenge their authority
in the face of playground injustice. I was so pleased when his teacher told me
last year that my son had the guts to stand up to some boys who told a group of
girls they couldnt play because theyre girls.
When it comes to adults behavior, he is guileless enough to
pull off perfect righteousness; he chides me when I trespass against the
ethical code hes taken to heart. For example, the other day his youngest
sister took a flying leap off a chair before I could catch her. I exclaimed,
Oh, God! Dont do that! My sons big eyes soulfully
reproached me as he said, Mom, youre not supposed to say Oh,
G-o-d.
One late evening during an intergenerational family parlor game,
things got a bit heated and some of the grown-ups used a few mild expletives.
After the round, my overtired little boy said with tears in his eyes, I
dont want to play any more. Theyre saying bad words.
His admonitions are both humbling and hard to swallow. Though we
are proud he has such high standards and proud of the sensitive, gentle, kind
boy he is, there are times when his father and I want to say, Lighten up,
kid. I believe part of moral maturity is learning tolerance for
imperfection or being willing to find the saint in the sinner.
In the meantime, as he wends his way on the path to adulthood, I
hope he will find strength and courage to continue to honor his innate sense of
right and wrong, even if it means being the outsider. I hope he will learn to
tolerate and forgive others weaknesses. I hope he will acknowledge his
own limitations without letting them stop him from trying new things and taking
necessary risks.
I pray his fledgling wings will one day take him soaring.
Kris Berggren lives in Minneapolis.
National Catholic Reporter, January 30,
1998
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