A new morning car line tradition began on Monday for my kids and I. Spoiler alert: the new-found tradition ended on Wednesday.
It began:
“Okay, guys, in November we should name something we’re thankful for each day during drop off – and no repeats!”
Our minivan inched forward.
Emersyn, age 7, volunteered first, saying, “I’m thankful for my family!”
Everett, 9, was next, “I’m thankful for soccer.”
Vivi, my Instagram-scanning eighth grader in the passenger seat, looked up long enough to dismissably comment, “Ah, I guess my friends??!!?”
I nodded in agreement.
First day of my “Gratitude Month” felt like a success – intent on using the holiday season to deliberately have my kids acknowledge all they have.
Fast-forward, though, to Day 2 of “Gratitude Month”.
Same, minivan carline scene:
Everett, “Soccer, I guess.” (“Whatever” kind of tone)
Emersyn, “School.” (still somewhat excited)
Vivi, “I don’t know. I’m using family today.” (totally over it, back to Insta tone)
I was pissed.
“Fine. I guess this new tradition is out – no one cares. It’s pretty sad that you guys find it so difficult to be thankful for anything!” (insert of few more ranting lines from me and silence for remainder of car line)
So the tradition was short-lived, but I am adamant about my kids understanding how fortunate they truly are.
Despite my immediate frustration, when I calmed down, I realized that my kids are probably grateful. They just are not into having me tell them to artificially stop and think about it on command. I guess I’m kind of like that, too. I can think of several times my kiddos have expressed unexpected gratitude. I’m often fairly dismissive of their compliment, like:
“Dad, you make the best wings!”
“Thanks for taking me to my game today, Dad.”
My typical retort: ‘Yeah, yeah – whatever. That’s the stuff I’m supposed to do, right?’
Parents cannot manufacture struggles for their kids. And, in turn, we cannot expect to pry gratitude out of them when we want to hear it.
We can point out our relative good fortune (“Oh no, that poor lady has to be cold laying on the street during the winter!”).
We can show them by taking them to places outside their cushy world (“Just imagine living in home with no air conditioning during a Florida summer!”).
Parents cannot, though, pull the gratitude “bait-and-switch” in setting our kids up with artificial, hallow displays of gratitude for one month (or day) a year.
Of course, our kids have more than we did. I have more than my folks did, too. I just often take it for granted. That doesn’t expressly mean that I’m an entitled prick (arguable:).
How might I better gauge my kids on-going gratitude levels?
Maybe I can start by pondering:
How often do my children say thank you for things I dismiss as “my job” as their dad?
When was the last time they reciprocated a household chore without being asked?
Will my kids empathize with someone less fortunate when they see the obvious disparity as they go about their day?
Would my little ones offer to retrieve my keys from the counter as I sit and wait, frustrated, in the van?
A “I think they would do that” answer to any of these questions is gratitude. In fact, these show the exact thankfulness parents are attempting to instill in our kids.
I’m trying to cherish that gratitude more this holiday season – and abandon my aimless, new tradition ideas.
I guess, the “Month of Gratitude” car line idea was doomed from the start. I set myself up, I think, for eventually (or, after two days) being annoyed that my kids had to search for things to be thankful for in the twenty seconds I demanded it from them.
I was wrong to get so mad. Judging their thankfulness in those fleeting, hurried moments was unfair of me. As unfair, I suppose, as my speeding off before they gratefully thanked me for the ride to school that day.
