The wise parent acknowledges the difference in his children, and guides them on different paths taking the individualism into consideration.
While my own parents couldn’t see me growing up to be a wild Indian living off berries in the woods, they recognized my tendency to be a loner and a bit dramatic. In talking with my sisters, I find that one particular poem that my mother often repeated to me was pretty much dedicated to me, since they don’t remember it as a major memory from their own childhoods.
"There was a little girl, who had a little curl, right in the middle of her forehead. And when she was good, she was very, very good. And when she was bad, she was horrid."
The Lost Children: A Charity Anthology
odd how it seems utterly transparent when looking through the mirrored glass from this side … if my parents had told me, time and again, that I was (for instance) worthless, weak, and incorrigible, I’ll just bet you would argue that allowing those tapes to keep spinning through my brain would be ignoring all the music that came after
horrid is one of those words like ALWAYS and NEVER … always inaccurate, and never worth remembering
🙂
Oh, this one doesn’t bother me at all. And, it’s 100% accurate about my either/or moods. My mother knew me well, and it was just a gentle reminder, I’m sure, to try to find the middle ground. I never did, and that’s okay too.