That Existentialist Mother

When my daughter was just months old, my mother and I were getting her ready to go for a walk. As I tried to put her wee little arm through that tiny slot in her coat, I accidentally poked her in the eye. Naturally, she immediately began to wail. My poor little button! I felt awful. I held her close and consoled her until the pain and irritation abated. She eventually calmed down and was back to her lovely self again. While I finished dressing her, I continued to talk to her in my mother-soothing-her-child voice:

“What a great lesson you have learned today! You see,” I cheerfully told her, “you need to store this unfortunate event for later use in life... someday when you are older, complaining about something you have as not being good enough… or whining for more of something… and I ask you if you would rather have that or a poke in the eye… you can recall this day and know exactly what I mean... I'm sure you'll make the correct choice.”

I looked up just in time to see my mother give me that look. You know the look.

“Whaaaat?” I said, completely baffled, “You’re always telling me to find the valuable lessons in life! I’m helping her!”

She snatched my daughter out of my arms and carried her away, “You're the one who needs help.”

So true, so true. But, that doesn't change the fact that there was a good lesson to be had.

Side Note: I was originally going to title this post, “That Poor Child”, as she is often referred to by some friends and family. Instead, I chose a less biased title and will let you come to your own conclusions as to my daughter’s lot in life.

Comments

[Oh, The Joys]

You are funny. So is your mom!

[jen]

I loved your response. Humor and realism is the best way to go. I'm putting my money on you, and the ongoing (and poke filled) success of your babe.

[Her Bad Mother]

It WAS a good lesson, well taught.

What's existentialism without good humour?