I talk a lot about our daughter, Ingrid, and her gift of Down Syndrome.  For reasons unknown, I talk less about the joys of her brother.  Our five-year old son has given me something deep to think about.  (Deep thought is what I do best).  As of lately, I’m realizing how much our kids pay attention and hear about our habits that, in this case, are less than flattering.

Last night I spoke about how he was heartbroken to learn of the tragedy in London.  I have considered how I would approach this conversation one day, yet was not prepared when the time came.  The delicate soul of my child was wounded by words that I spoke in conversation to my husband, not realizing that he was listening.  I scared him with the details that I read aloud.  I did this.  To make matters worse, earlier yesterday, we took our son for a haircut.  It was nothing out of the ordinary, just a routine trim.  The barber did an awful job. In the car I made it clear to my husband that we’ll never go to that specific barber shop again.  I didn’t consider his feelings when I was spouting off about something silly.  It’s a haircut.  Hair grows quickly and there’s no need to make a fuss about such things.  I did though.

Throughout the day today, we noticed that Brixton’s demeanor was different.  We were concerned that he may be thinking quite deeply about the events in London, only to realize that I, his mom, had truly hurt his feelings.  That haircut that I went on about, without good reason, meant more to him than I would’ve imagined.  He wasn’t pleased with it to begin with and I made it worse.

Lesson learned.  Our kids hear us.  They can read our body language and feel our emotions.  They are far more intuitive than they’re given credit.  I feel incredibly horrible for the hurt I caused my son.  He looks up to me, as his mom, to build him up and encourage him.  I’m supposed to be the positive light in his life and I blew out that candle with my careless words, even though they were not directed to him.  Our kids hear us.  I need to be more cautious about my conversation​ and character.  With all intentions of molding my kids to be upstanding adults filled with courage, love, loyalty, compassion and trustworthiness, the potential to squash these lovely characteristics is simple.

Thank you Brixton.  You have taught me to be more loving with my words and more aware of those around me.

xoxo

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