It is my job as a mother to teach my child certain things. And I do. I try every day to teach him to be compassionate and kind, to be respectful and caring, to make positive choices and not to talk with his mouth full.
I teach him about road rules and water safety. I instruct him in manners and courtesy, I have even taught him how to ride a bike. Okay that’s a lie, his father taught him how to ride a bike.
I’ve taught him about where we come from (literally and figuratively) and about other races and cultures. I’ve encouraged him to love books and reading and I’ve also taught him how to blow bubble gum bubbles that reach his nose.
I’ve guided him through the intricacies of making toast and persevered every morning in teaching him how to make his bed. I’ve taught him the value of money. Okay that’s also lie – he has no clue.
But the lessons he has taught me are much greater.
Through him I have learned huge, unwavering, heart-stopping love, I’ve learned patience and humility. I’ve also learned about sleep deprivation and in the very early days he taught me quite a bit about mastitis.
He’s taught me about survival and pushing through and he even introduced me to the wonder of nutella. To his credit he also reintroduced me to zoo biscuits.
But the two greatest lessons he has taught me are about family and friends.
Late last year we went to America. Little Pencil, being the son of a blogger decided to transcribe the events of every day onto my computer. Every night we would lie on his bed and he would spill out the contents of his day.
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He doesn’t want me to share his dairy online but God I would love to. I would love to show everyone the lessons that my son taught me that holiday. That it doesn’t matter where you are or what you have – if you have your family and you can laugh you have it all.
These holidays I have been working. My guilt factor has been at an all time high because I learnt from his diary just how important family time is to Little Pencil.
But I am lucky, very lucky, because for two weeks I worked at home. In that time I got to watch my son interact with his friends. (The fact that I have shafted him on to friends for the rest of the holiday meant that during the time I was working from home I could repay the favour one or two times).
Watching him and his friends brought to mind an article about only children that I had read with (joyful) interest. It was written by only child Emma Kennedy and said in part:
“… there are things about myself I am convinced stem directly from being an only child. First, I love my friends beyond words. There is a handful of people to whom I am devoted to the point of madness.
I suppose the feelings I have for those friends are not dissimilar to what friendly siblings experience. Except I know plenty of people who don’t see their siblings from one year to the next. Yet nobody seems to feel sorry for people who can’t bear their own family.
Second, because I grew up with no experience of sibling rivalry, I have no professional jealousy. I have never, not once, looked at one of my peers and begrudged them their success. It never fails to amaze me how common this is.”
Watching Little Pencil interact with his friends is pure joy. He doesn’t just like his friends, he loves them with all his heart and soul. He puts every fibre of his being into his play. He concentrates intently on what they say, he laps up their words (when he isn’t talking over them) and he imbibes their presence. He has no jealousy, there is no rivalry – just sheer delight.
And to learn from that has surely got to be one of the greatest lessons of all.