My son didn’t want to take the pills, but despite my reservations, I lied and told him they were safe. And because I am his mom, he believed me.
I was chatting with a friend about the differences in the way we coparent with our exes. “You and your ex have it easy. I wish we could.”
Eighteen gets to be a gut-wrenchingly small number when you realize that’s the number of times you have to make significant memories with your kids.
My son wouldn’t meet my eyes but I could see the tears in his, “It doesn’t matter,” he said. But I heard him, it did matter.
Gratitude is not a lesson to be learned like English or Math. It’s not something I can MAKE my kids understand. It is not something I can shame my kids into either. I have to model it. I have to model HOW to be grateful to them.