A brief follow-up to yesterday's entry. We got to the mall early enough that there wasn't a line to see Santa yet, which was great. We only had to wait for one other child before B got to sit on Santa's lap. As expected, she got scared and didn't want to do it.
The past several weeks have presented us, as parents, the opportunity to work with our little one on the concept of having to do things she doesn't want to do sometimes. Often it's because that's just the way things are. We have to get dressed every day, we have to go to work (or daycare), we have to take a bath. But sometimes it's just because whatever it is would make someone else happy. So we have to do it, even though we don't want to.
You never know if what you're telling your kids is sinking in or not. Yesterday, we got proof positive that it is.
Just prior to taking her over to Santa, I had whispered to her, "Please be brave�Mama just wants to get one picture, then we can go." We pried her little body away from mine and sat her in Santa's lap. She was very clearly distressed and began crying immediately. P and I backed away from her slowly, then pointed to the "elf" with the camera. What happened next melted my heart and made me want to cry myself (with pride).
Upon seeing the camera pointed at her, she put her hands in her lap, stopped shrieking, looked straight at the camera, and tried to�..smile. With tears rolling down her cheeks, her little lips quivering, it looked a little like a grimace, but she was clearly trying to smile for her picture with Santa. Undoubtedly to make Mama happy. As soon as the picture was taken, the "smile" disappeared and her arms reached out for me to come to her rescue. Poor little thing, I was so proud of her! P and I both went to her, stood close by. The man playing Santa was so good�he comforted her and asked her if she wanted to get down and just stand in front of him while she told him what she wanted for Christmas, and hold onto his white gloved thumbs. That was okay with her, so she did. And in the tiniest of voices, she told him her name, that she was 2 years old, and she wanted a "fast red car" for Christmas. (Okay, so we rehearsed a little beforehand). He took some time telling her what a good girl she was, and that he would try very hard to bring her what she asked for. She seemed happy with that. Then he gave her a cookie.
I gotta tell ya, it's moments like these that make me marvel in this whole parenthood thing. I mean, we try to teach our kids things we are pretty sure they ought to know, things of importance that will help them in their lives, but we don't know if it's working or not. But sometimes we get glimpses that it is. Snapshots of our influence on them. And then the whole magnitude of this job we are doing comes barreling down, and we are reminded of how every single thing we do or say is shaping the life of another little person.
It was one for the memory book. I can't wait to see the picture.
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