Snapshot
Last night, after watching the kids bounce off the walls for an hour after dinner, we pulled the bikes out of the garage and rode off into the cooling evening air. The breeze was fresh, and the sky was clear for the first time in over a week.
Peddling along, I watched my son and oldest race ahead on the bike path. My husband followed behind at a more leisurely pace with my five-year-old daughter on the trail-a-bike behind him. I brought up the rear.
From my vantage point, I admired the dappled shadows and golden sunlight making my family look lik rare wheeled beasts. I was just close enough to hear my five-year-old singing Laurie Berkner's Mahalo while she peddled along.
All was right with my world.
And then we biked just a little bit past the point of where we should have turned around and suddenly my youngest was complaining bitterly about her butt hurting and my son's feet were hurting him and my oldest was going slower and slower.
And then as we finally rounded the corner and headed down the final street to our house, my oldest clipped the rear tail-light of an SUV parked on the street and broke it. As she was bringing up the rear, we didn't see it happen, but we heard the unmistakable popping sound of broken.
I turned around and asked my daughter if she was okay. She rode quickly up to me. I asked her if she had run into that SUV. She shrugged and made her way into the yard. Repeated questions brought vague answers.
My husband circled back, and discovered that the rear tail light was broken.
We put the bikes away, and walked over and knocked on the front door. I pushed my business card into the bemused hand of the guy who owned the SUV and apologized. He told me that his SUV gets hit by kids on scooters and bikes all the time. I told him to let me know what the replacement cost is, and I'll be happy to pay for it.
He waved us off, and returned to whatever sporting event he was watching.
My daughter, eyes as big a saucers, wandered back into the house, and then ran into her room and burst into tears. We explained to her that the ONLY problem at hand wasn't the broken light, but instead her unwillingness to own up to breaking it. It was an accident, but she immediately started looking for a way to deny.
I think we got through to her. I think.
But then again, maybe she's got a future in politics.
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Comments
That is the same point I keep trying to make with my kids. Mistakes can be forgiven, but own up to it, apologize and for goodness sake don't lie about it.
I apparently have a ways to go, since Not Me is alive and well and living in my house.
Posted by: michelle Myers | July 1, 2008 1:46 PM
Before you post my last comment, could you please delete my last name. I am sorry, my computer likes to fill that in at the last moment and I missed it this time. And then of course please delete this idiotic response:) Thanks
Posted by: michelle | July 1, 2008 1:50 PM
Tell her that when she gets bigger, like me, she can do even more expensive damage to other people's cars.
Posted by: suburbancorrespondent | July 1, 2008 4:16 PM
Good for you! I distinctly remember the time I swiped something from the local drugstore and my mom drove me back to return it. I had all the excuses in the world, but I will never forget the feeling of having to walk back in there myself and hand the goods back to the checker. She'll remember, and she won't need a degree in politics to get it right next time.
Posted by: Michelle | July 1, 2008 5:52 PM
But Mom, it depends on what you mean by "broken."
Posted by: ben | July 1, 2008 6:10 PM
Awww. Jenny, you're a great parent. Maybe she was just afraid or uncertain about what to do. If I were in her shoes I probably would have hid, too. Only because I'd have been so embarrassed that I biked into an SUV. Actually, I think I've done something similar as a kid!
Posted by: dana | July 1, 2008 10:36 PM
I have tried so hard to instill in my children that trust once lost is hard to regain -- and over and over we have had to have the talk about how the punishment is SOOOO much lighter if you tell the TRUTH. I have wondered if sometimes they are deaf or if I occasionally speak in tongues.
Posted by: JenniferB | July 2, 2008 9:25 AM
She must have been scared -- of the reaction, if not potential consequences. I'm glad it worked out.
Posted by: Daisy | July 4, 2008 7:50 PM
Jenny aggravating yes, but this was such a good post. Thanks for sharing your values.
Dorothy from grammology
remember to hug gram
grammology.com
Posted by: Dorothy Stahlnecker | July 5, 2008 12:30 PM
There is a long, but interesting article here on how kids learn to lie, and research on the most effective ways to teach them not to:
http://nymag.com/news/features/43893/
Posted by: Alex | July 7, 2008 6:43 AM
Great post, Jenny! If any of you figure out how to derail the tendency to fib, please do share the secret. My 21-month-old-son just lied to me the other day! He pulled a cd off my husband's desk (which, in theory, is off limits)and brought it into the kitchen, asking me oh, so sweetly to "play cd, please, nice?" When I asked him where he got it, he hesitated, looked down, and then said, "on da floor." Now how does one explain the concept of a lie to a toddler, I ask you?
Posted by: Alexis | July 7, 2008 1:53 PM