The way I see it...

It's all about perspective.  I really believe that how you see things can determine who you are and how you live, and I try to give my kids the chance to see things from varying points of view.  I think that if we could just learn to see things from other peoples' points of view, the world would be a drastically different--and better--place.  Now I realize that as a parent, my idea of things is generally pretty far from my kids' idea.  I remember childhood enough to be realistic.  Still, I think it's important for their developing brains and personalities to practice seeing things from another side, so I try to help my kids see the reasons for the things I do as I go.  Sometimes this alters their feelings about what I require of them.  Sometimes not.

I make them do morning jobs.  School doesn't start until nine, and that leaves less time for after-school teaching at home to occur.  I'm not asking them to do an excessive amount of work:  piano for a few minutes (and I think I should be making them do this longer), keyboarding practice, clearing thier breakfast mess, taking out the trash and recycling, and generally being responsible for thier own grooming.  (I was a teacher once;  I appreciate a kid who's brushed his teeth.)  My kids are generally fairly good at knowing this little bit is expected of them and don't complain loudly about it.  They will, however, slide as far as they can if it goes unnoticed.  I had been seeing such a slide for the past week. 

My instinct was to make them do the work after school, but the problem was that I wasn't prepared to leave the breakfast mess, the trash and recycling undone--I have to live here while they're at school, you know?  Plus, I don't want my kids to feel like they're just slaves I birthed in order to ease my workload.  Any parent will appreciate the hilartiy of that idea.  So I settled on a writing exercise which would allow them to avoid feeling used for labor and would give them a little writing practice to boot.  Win-win, right? 

Wrong.

I went upstairs to fix my dryer (yes, you heard that right;  I diagnosed and fixed my broken dryer myself because I'm that awesome, but that's another post entirely), and this is what I found magneted to the fridge.

So clearly, Miles was lacking in enthusiasm.  Raelynn, however, was eagerly scribbling away.  When she finished, she insisted she read it aloud to me--I wouldn't use the right voice.  Here's what she read with obvious relish, clearly expecting praise at her genius and sense of irony.

She was devestaed when I failed to see the glory in her piece and rewrote a very brief and tear-stained list.  She's such a good girl and thought I'd know from the beginning that she could see where I was coming from.  She genuinely thought I'd appreciate her wit.  I need to tell her teacher to knock off with the autobiographies at school;  she's imitating the style well enough.

Miles, after watching the drama unfold with Raelynn, very quietly and happily wrote the following.

I love those kids, and am so proud of them.  They have these amazing abilities that are all their own, and I just am blindsided by their individual and independent little personalities.  I keep thinking about that line in the Alice in Wonderland movie where the Hatter tells Alice she's lost her muchness.  She was much muchier before.  My kids have muchness.  Their perspective, sometimes delightful and sometimes not, expands my own.  I'm grateful.