How Does Your Child Perceive You?
Before I got married, I had six theories about bringing up children.
Now I have six children and no theories.
John Wilmot
“Dad,” my first grader asked me recently, “what are you going to do when you come to my class for Parents’ Day?” He was standing on the opposite side of my desk in my home study.
“What have the other parents done?” I asked, looking up from my computer screen, where I’d been replying to email messages
“Anthony’s dad let each of us try on his fireman’s helmet and heavy jacket,” he said excitedly. “It was heavy, and it smelled like smoke! And you know what, Dad?”
“What, John?”
“Well, no. I haven’t done that,” I replied, clearing my throat. “What have other parents done when they’ve come to your class?”
“Audrey’s dad works at the Museum of Flight, and he set off a really big rocket for us on the playground—it was so cool! You should have seen the smoke!”
“Mm-hmm.”
“It went so high, Dad. It had sparks and everything!”
“That sounds really cool,” I slowly murmured.
“Nick’s mom is a doctor,” John continued, “and she put a cast on Nick’s arm right there in the class, and then she cut off the cast and passed it around the room so we could touch it—but Taden didn’t want to because he said it was gross.”
“Wow!” I said, trying to join in on his excitement.
“So what are you going to do, Dad?” John asked earnestly.
“Well, Son, let’s see. Um, what do you think I should do?”
“Mommy says you work at your computer and talk on the phone a lot.”
“Is that what Mommy says? I guess she’s right about that—but I don’t think I want to do that for your class.”
“Nooo!” John giggled.
“Let me talk to your mom about Parents’ Day.”
With that, John scampered out to the backyard as I tracked down Leslie in the kitchen. “What am I supposed to do in John’s class for Parents’ Day? John’s going to think I’m the most boring dad in the world, and he’ll remember this forever,” I said frantically.
Leslie started laughing.
“I’m serious.”
“I know. I just got a mental image of you showing the class how you talk on your cell phone and write at your computer.”
“Very funny!” I snapped. “John already told me that joke—and I didn’t laugh then either.”
Just then John came in from the backyard and said, “Hey, Dad, why don’t you bring your brain to class?”
He wasn’t joking. John had once sat in on one of my lectures at the university where I talked about the human brain. I’d used an actual human brain from a formaldehyde container I borrowed from the biology department. Needless to say, he was fascinated—as were my college students.
And that’s exactly what I did for Parents’ Day. I explained to his first grade class that I’m a “doctor” who works on feelings and that feelings begin in the brain. I showed them a colorful wooden model of the brain and then asked if they’d like to see an actual brain that I had in a jar contained in a cardboard box.
“Yes—show us the brain!” some students shouted.
“Children, let’s be respectful now,” John’s teacher said with authority while keeping an eye on the cardboard box.
The kids were now literally sitting on the edge of their seats, and John was grinning from ear to ear. The anticipation in that first grade classroom was palpable. I put on my protective goggles and latex gloves before reaching into the box. The children were wide-eyed—except for Taden. He was peeking through his fingers.
I spent the next few minutes answering one question after another. The questions ranged from the practical (“What are all those lines on it?”) to the curious (“Whose brain is it?”) to the theological (“Doesn’t he need his brain in heaven?”).
Needless to say, I was a hit. The kids still talk about that day when they see me picking up John after school. And so does John. “Remember when you brought the brain to my school, Dad?” he’ll say. “That was awesome!”
Whew! I did it. I made my son proud. And isn’t that what every parent wants? Don’t you want your child’s perception of you to be as positive as possible?
Your Child Aspires to Be Like You—Is That a Good Thing?
That afternoon after buckling John into his car seat and traveling back home from school, Leslie and I were talking about what we might do for dinner. Then, during a brief lull, John said something that would melt any parent’s heart: “Dad, I want to be like you.”
The truth is, whether our kids say it or not, they feel it. Children aspire to become what their parents are. And that’s precisely why it’s critical to be the kind of parents we want to be.
John’s comment got me to thinking. If he wanted to be like me, how did he perceive me? What qualities did he see in me that he wanted to emulate? Suddenly I was more self-conscious than I’d been in years. I felt like I was sixteen again, looking into the mirror and wondering what other people thought of me. Metaphorically, I began to “check myself out.” Was I a patient man? Could my son look at me and say, “I want to be patient like Dad is”? Was I optimistic? I sure wanted my son to be. Was I forgiving, empathic, comforting, kind?
Have you ever had these same thoughts? What traits does your child see in you? Perhaps more important, what traits doesn’t your child see in you that you wish he or she did?
From the day John was born, I was so focused on what I would do as a parent—reading all kinds of books on techniques and strategies—that I hadn’t given much thought to the kind of parent I wanted to be.
Leslie felt the same way. And the more we talked about it, the more serious we became about what we’ve come to call “intentional traits.”
In this four-part series we will show you exactly how you can be intentional in the traits you pass on your kids.
Drs. Les and Leslie Parrott are the founders of RealRelationships.com and the authors of several best-selling books, including Your Time-Starved Marriage, Love Talk, and the award-winning Saving Your Marriage Before It Starts. This article is an excerpt from their new book, The Parent You Want to Be. Click here to order a copy…Getting Real about the Kind of Kids You Want to Raise
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October 9th, 2007 at 7:02 pm
Great short article, made me think how I need to be a mindful parent.