Are my Children Perfect?

Are my children perfect?

By Allan Olson

Last weekend we took a trip to town. At our previous digs a few miles outside of Bemidji, a trip to town was a normal occurrence. At our present location, a trip to town is an exciting adventure for our family – or at least it is for the kids.

The children, for the most part, spend their days shuffling back and forth from home to school, and that is the extent of their week. When we stay home all weekend (which I prefer), they have to be content playing in the yard or trashing their rooms.

On this trip to town we visited only two stores in a span of several hours, and the kids – and the stores – got on my nerves.

It’s not that they were doing anything terrible, but the little nuances that only a parent perceives as bad started to bug me. Whether it was Alivia, who spun the sunglasses case too hard (resulting in the majority falling to the floor), or the incessant questions from all of them asking “Can I have this for my birthday?” (or Christmas) finally started to bug me – and that was just at one store. We tried to teach Alivia to be a responsible three-year-old by asking her to pick the sunglasses up as a punishment for making the mess. She did so (with minimal help from her mother). The problem with that was it sort of backfired – she seemed to enjoy picking up the mess, something she would rarely enjoy doing at home.

The journey continued, and we headed to the next store to pick up some household items. We didn’t need much, but the kids needed another outing, so we let them browse the vast selection of toys for some Christmas ideas.

Perhaps it was the large amount of products displayed to taunt the children and torment the parents that got on my nerves that day, because the more items they selected as their new favorite, the more annoyed I got.

I worked at keeping my patience under control, but it got thinner. Finally, we kicked things into high gear and finished our shopping.

Thankfully, we didn’t lose any children on this excursion like we did on a shopping trip last year in the mall. That one resulted in dad frantically looking for his oldest child, who had headed out to the van in the wrong direction and ended up inside the mall rather than behind the store where the van was parked.

Once I located him, I needed a time-out to get my nerves under control (similar to when we lost Abigail camping this summer). One look at me and he knew it wasn’t going to be a fun evening for him.

While the weekend was unproductive aside from several hours in town, I did learn how to make a Swedish Tea Ring, something my Grandma made when I was a child. The kids’ bedrooms, littered with toys, got largely ignored, primarily because I didn’t walk in there any more than I absolutely had to.

For me, I think the highlight of the weekend was asking Abigail to empty the food garbage for the starving crows in the backyard. I expected her normal answers – “No,” or “Will you help me?” or “Will someone go with me?” Taking me by shock, she said, “Sure,” or something to that effect, and a short while later came back to me with boots and a jacket and was ready for the job. Honestly, I didn’t expect her to make it all the way to the dumping spot, without a) turning around and asking someone to go with, or b) forgetting what she was doing.

To my amazement, she stayed on task and brought my nearly empty buckets back to me. I was so impressed, I broke my own rule and gave her two pieces of candy for the accomplishment. I broke my rule primarily because she did not utter a single complaint.

So, getting back to my headline, “Are my children perfect?” Perhaps it should read, “Does dad need more patience when shopping?”

I think the latter is definitely true. My wife informs me from time to time that they only act out when I’m along. I’ve offered to stay home, but she doesn’t accept that as a solution. Darn.

No, my kids aren’t perfect, but I think they are “perfectly normal.” They misbehave, have sassy attitudes, they don’t like to pick up their room or do any work unless it involves fun, but they are mine, and most days I wouldn’t give them up even if they make me want to pull my hair out. After all, if they can accept my faults and still love me, then I certainly can return it with open arms and heart.

Thanks for reading, and remember to watch out for those school buses. As always, feel free to drop us a line and/or a photo, and have a great week. For more of my columns visit http://allan-crazykids.blogspot.com.