Have you ever noticed that some people hold children accountable to an unattainable standard? I'm not talking about expecting them to learn to tell the truth or to look both ways before crossing the street. Those are things they need to be taught and held accountable for. The question isn't whether the child gets it right every time, but where is his heart? What does he or she
want to do?
What I'm talking about specifically is holding something against a child that the child did not understand was wrong, or was simply too young to even remember doing. Would you tell a child who is ten that he cannot be trusted to ride a bicycle because he knocked one over when he was four? How about refusing to let a 14 year-old child babysit because once, when she was seven, she pushed her baby brother down the stairs?
The Original Case in Point: It has been lorded over me most of my life that I am a dangerous, evil person because I "intentionally and maliciously" threw a knife at my brother-in-law. I still don't remember doing it, but boy have I apologized time and again for it. When I was in my early twenties, I learned from outlying adults, that the occasion took place when I was two. It was a butter knife and was, evidently the only thing near my high chair. He was trying to force something into my mouth and wouldn't take "no" for an answer. Hence, my two-year old brain thought, "Grab something and chunk it at him. Maybe he'll go away!" Hmmm.
So it is ok to throw butter knives at adults? (Well, or children, for that matter.) No. Did my mother explain it to me, reprimand me for throwing a fit? I'm sure she did, she was good about that stuff. Did I ever lob cutlery at him (or anyone) ever again? Nope. To most people, that was a simple learning experience set upon by many children in many scenarios over the eons. Kids figure this stuff out bit by bit. Don't throw hard things at people. Don't bite people or pets. There's so much to learn! Yet to this day, that's a black mark on my record, according to some people.
I hadn't thought about this until we were in Prescott, visiting with a friend of Zorak's. This guy is a good guy. He's one of Zorak's dearest friends. He and I don't usually see eye-to-eye, but our run-ins are mostly of the perspective kind, and I'm guessing this was just another one of those things. He does not have children, nor is he around them much at all, and he's rather set in his ways, which is perfectly normal. Meanwhile, we have three, and haven't had our own way much of the time for the past six years. Rather, we've changed "our way" to accomodate having a family. Again, perfectly normal.
We were sitting at a restaurant, waiting for our meal, making chit-chat and praying the boys didn't bop passers-by with their ballons. Everything was going well. The boys were being good. Jacob was only mildly neurotic (two new teeth coming in that day). Zorak was happy to see his dear friend, and I was thankful we didn't have to go to their house to visit. All good!
Out of nowhere, he asks me, "So, has James gotten over his mean streak?" *pause* HUH? What mean streak, I ask. "Oh, come on, he had a mean streak." Um, he was two the last time you were really around him at all... I just said that no, he was fine, and moved on to give Jacob some unwanted attention to prevent me from pushing the point further.
Later, I discussed it with Zorak and the only incident we could think of was once James threw rocks at one of their many dogs. Friend's Wife just about had a stroke (those are their babies, which I can appreciate), and I took James aside to talk with him. My discussion with the two-year old went like this:
Me: Honey, what are you doing?
J: Playing catch.
Me: Oh. Um, well, with dogs it's "fetch".
J: Playing fetch.
Me: Yeah, well, with dogs, you use balls, not rocks. And you throw it away from the dog, not to the dog.
J: Oh. OK.
Me: *glancing up at our hosts who have retreated to their kitchen window to seethe between the blinds* Got it?
J: Got it.
He never hit the dog with rocks again.
How sad to be held accountable for something that happened so relatively long ago, when he was so very little and just learning. I would hate to be labled as to who I am now based on something I did when I was ten (which is the same ratio). Can you imagine?
James is now six. He's a neat kid, a little uncomfortable under scrutiny and can be rather flighty, but he is pure joy for us. His laugh comes from the depths of his toes and spreads to his eyebrows. Sometimes his eyes actually disappear when he laughs. He's funny and sweet, cries if I squish a lady bug in the door, is hypersensitive and gets frustrated quite easily. He will share his candy with his brothers without being asked to do so. He attends to tasks with a good attitude, and when he forgets what he's doing, he's cheerful in getting back on track. He treats his baby brother like a special gift from God, and he treats his other brother like, well, another brother. He opens doors for ladies and says, "Yes, please," and "No, thank you." He makes up excellent riddles!
And someone is missing out on all that neat stuff because of an innocent child's mistake from long ago.
Sadly, that's not all that uncommon. As my friend put it,
some people "think kids walk out of the womb with a complete understanding of culture". How true! We accept that they don't pop out speaking an intelligable language, knowing how to dress themselves or tie their shoes, but somehow it's pretty common for folks to expect little ones to fully grasp the intricacies of human interaction and the norms and taboos of their culture.
Wow, that's just creepy. I know full-fledged adults who don't grasp 80% of it.
So, just for the sake of a child's heart, and our own, let's be sure to check ourselves before making comments about a child we haven't seen in a while. Or stop and ask whether perspective may have played a role in how we felt toward something. The feelings you save could be your own, your friend's, or a child's.
Kiss those babies!
