I think I’m a pretty good parent. But I still get it wrong… a lot.
Good example was yesterday. Was hopping in the shower and my younger son brought in a piece of paper in one hand, and his phone in the other. He asked if I could make him this specific paper airplane that he was watching on Youtube.
Standing naked 😆 I said I’d just do it right then before I got my hands wet and ruined the paper. Click play…
A.10.MINUTE.PAPER.AIRPLANE of the most intricate fashion.
25 minutes into the 10 minute paper airplane, I’m audibly sighing. Passively directing my frustration at my son. I pause the video and put some shorts on at least. As I’m sighing, I’m kicking myself.
- I was the one that said yes.
- I was the one that could have waited.
- I should be grateful he asks me to do things with him.
I chill a little, ask for a new piece of paper, and knock it out in 8 minutes.
Though I was never blatantly rude or raised my voice, it was obvious I was frustrated… over a paper airplane. 🙄
I apologized and thanked him for the opportunity to do the airplane with him.
That’s not even the son that wrote me the text in this screenshot, but it’s the same opportunity across all of my kids.
With age I feel like I’ve become calmer and more patient for the daily redundancy that is parenthood. How many times in a day can I reply “What?!” to “Dad?”
In the Groundhogs Day of parenthood, I slip. But then I show them the importance of being vulnerable, and the power in apologizing. I feel like an ass in the moment, but I take pride in the opportunity to have humility with my tiny humans.
And, somehow along the way, I teach them something even more empowering with what my son said in orange.