This is another past from last year. My family was talking about this incident the other day and I remembered I had written about, so I sent out to find it. Here it is.
April 2019: “If you were to guess that’s flour that Deacon is playing with, you’d be correct.
I guess that was the risk I took when I went to change the diaper of the little brother.
I asked him what he was doing. He said he was “getting his Jeep ready.” I asked him getting it ready for what? He replied he was getting it ready to go. Haha, seems logical enough.
I could have gotten mad and yelled at him, but I knew I would regret it. Did he hurt anyone? No. What he did was harmless. Nothing a little sweeping couldn’t fix.
My little brother, Alex who was probably 3 or 4, did this exact same thing when he was little. Our older brother was in charge while Mom took a shower. When she got out, Alex was no where to be found. Casey, the older brother, didn’t know where he went. After searching the house, she happened to open the pantry and to her surprise, there he was. Playing in the 5-gallon bucket of flour. The flour was all over. She gently closed the door, and told Casey to go grab the camera.
As soon as I walked outside and saw Deacon playing in the flour, I had a split-second to decide how I was going to react. Having the heard the flour story of my little brother many times growing up, I decided to follow my mom’s example. I closed the door, grabbed my phone, and went back to take a picture.
I don’t remember my mom getting mad or yelling at him for making such a big mess. It got cleaned up and that was that. I don’t remember at all what she said, but I do remember how I felt. Even though he did something he wasn’t supposed to, her reaction was something that I still remember. She didn’t make him feel ashamed.
One day a few months ago, Deacon spilled his juice off the table and onto the rug below. I got mad at him, I had just told him to be careful and not spill. And he did just that.
In my anger, I grabbed a rag and went to clean it up. As I’m walking over to clean it up, I see this little boy who is obviously saddened by what had happened. His big, blue eyes stare at me with such shame and guilt, his head dropped a little, and his small hands sit gently in his lap. I kneel to the floor to start scrubbing the rug and am overcome with a wave of guilt.
Why did I have to overreact to such a small and insignificant accident? It truly was an accident. It’s not like he intentionally poured out his juice onto the floor. And I made him feel shame for it. That’s what gets me the most. I should be one of the main people in his life that he can feel safe with and someone he can turn to when he makes mistakes. If I get so mad at him for spilling a small cup of juice, how made does he think I’ll get when he makes bigger mistakes? (I know I’m reading way too much into this, I’m definitely an over-thinker). But if he can’t come to me with the little stuff, there’s no way he’ll come to me for the big stuff.
I’m glad that he won’t remember this juice incident, because it surely had an impact on me and something that I still think about and feel bad about. I remember laying in bed that night telling the story to Brady as tears streamed down my face. I felt like I had failed Deacon in that moment as his mom. I don’t know if I’ll ever forget the way his big eyes looked at me. Gosh, it still tears me up inside.
So I’m glad that in this moment with the flour, I was able to remember the juice incident, and how I made him feel. I was able to remember how my mom reacted to my brother’s flour incident, and how she made us feel. And gleaning from those experiences, I was able to react in such a calmer way and truly see the situation for what it was.
While he helped me clean up the flour, I decided not to belittle him, but instead teach him. I told him that the flour was for cooking, not playing. I couldn’t help but smile when he replied that he was just getting his Jeep ready.”
Reading through this took me right back to these different instances. Deacon loves to look at this picture with his Jeep. He laughs and thinks it’s funny that he’s playing with the flour. Whenever we have the flour out to cook something, he usually comments about that one time that he put it on his Jeep. I can’t blame him though, flour is so soft and feels wonderful in your hands.
Oh the things you risk as a parent when you take the chance to go to the restroom, change a diaper, or try to take a quick shower. It’s a risky move, but sometimes it results in a story that is to be remembered and retold for years to come.
-Marcel