Intellectually, you know that other people adore their children. In fact, it’s in your best interest to want people to adore their children. When people love and care for their children, the world benefits. Social science backs this up. People who care about their children make their best effort to educate them and teach them values. They spend their resources to make the next generation better.
But then you have your child, and you honestly wonder why anyone adores those other regular children.
Such is the beauty and reality of parenthood. Your heart tells you that your child is like no other. Your brain tells you that they’re just one more human on this planet.
Your heart and your brain are both right. When my first child was just a baby, I read a line in a parenting book that beautifully captured this duality. The writer said, and I paraphrase: In an ideal world a child is raised to believe they are incredibly special, and they know they are no more special than anyone else. That single piece of advice has guided my parenting journey for over two decades.
My youngest child is about to graduate from high school. On the one hand it seems as though I have lived with my children forever. On the other hand I can’t believe it went so fast.
As the parent of a graduating senior, we’re asked to write senior letters. It’s meant to be a short missive to your child that wishes her well, and reminiscing on fond memories of childhood?
Do these people actually think that this can be done in a single letter? We’re talking about a person who is going to change the world, a person who has already changed the lives of her family, and who through the very existence of her being has brought love and joy into the world in quantities never before experienced by those she has touched. How is a parent supposed to capture that with a letter?
Instead I chose to offer her these three simple affirmations:
