Yesterday, I told my friend I haven’t taught my kids anything. That everything they know is from a book or TV or the iPad or preschool or each other. But of course, although they have learned from other sources, it isn’t true that I haven’t taught them anything. Why, right saying after that, I taught them to trespass.
We packed up their water wings and swimsuits and went to a hotel pool. I never worried about not getting in. We would just stand there looking pool-ready until someone opened the door. And someone did. I am teaching them to take advantage of opportunities.
I have taught them to always have snacks, no matter what. No one wants to see us hangry.
I have taught them to watch the sky. To look outside.
I am teaching them to find something they’re interested in, even when they’re somewhere that seems uninteresting (no offense, Pottery Barn Kids).
This sounds terrible, but by busying myself with things beside them while still around them, I have taught them to take care of themselves and each other.
I have taught them to smile for photo ops.
I tell them each every day that his brother will always be his strongest ally.
I taught them when they’re riled up, they just need to chill the fuck out with a quiet activity.
I have taught them to run around and live in the moment.
And then to relax.
To get sun burnt in March because I teach spontaneity, not preparation.
I have taught them to also look down. To discover what there is all around.
While we drove home yesterday, Brandon pointed out the sunset. He reminded me to watch the sky, to look up. Look up from looking down.
These kids are the most spectacular thing. I’m glad I have them to teach. And I’m especially glad I have them to teach me.