Perspectives on Parenting

making his name bright again, Porter scrubs the grime away

Once upon a time there was a darling little boy who loved his mom so much he wants her to sleep with him at night and hugs her tight (!) on his way out the door to school each morning.

This little boy was really clever, and decided to use his brilliance to avoid doing school work. He convinced his teacher each afternoon that his classwork was in the appropriate basket, earning himself a teacher's signature on his daily planner. Once the signature was seen by his adoring mother it was said that no homework was required of the sneaky clever boy; as evidenced by the teacher's approving John Hancock.

One Friday afternoon the boy's loving mother figured out the deception. Boy and mother walked down the road back to school to concur with the teacher that indeed work had gone undone and was legitemately missing and required at the boy's hand.

The boy began to have a stomach ache.
The boy began to cry.
The mother, completely realizing she had been lied to for many days, wanted to cry too.

It hurts to be lied to by your boy, ya know?

Reality was placed before the boy. Consequences too. While friends played outside (or on their video games) all Friday afternoon the boy sat at the library table and did assignment after assignment. By Saturday morning, with the work still not fully completed, the boy begged to be aloud to play in his football game. Mom stood her ground. 5 minutes before game time the work had been complete.

The boy played in his game.
(And did a darn good job)

Once home, he was put to work, with the understanding that his task was a metaphor for the choice he had made to dirty the family name through deception and lying.

He scrubbed the smoker. He wiped out the grease pail. he swept up the charred ashes and cleaned out the dripper pan.

It was a dirty job.
the dirt was all over him. Just like a lie. Just like deceit. That yuck is hard to wipe clean.

After the boy was bathed and showered he was given a short but sweet lecture, on how our lies can be truly washed clean, and told of the joy that when we choose wrong, but decide to turn back to right ways, there are open arms waiting to receive us.

This morning, that boy, with a letter of apology in his cute little hand, was escorted to school again by his mother. She watched as this child whom she adores so much handed his confession to his teacher.

The boy's mother wanted to cry again. But held back tears as her son cried instead. An embarrassment she hopes he will never forget.

And while these events are so much about this wonderful, devious, good at heart boy they are also about his mother. Who sometimes cries when its hard to parent. And who worries that she teach about the values of honesty and integrity in a way in which her children will adopt them and make them their values. And who hopes beyond hope that the day of hiding papers and lying to teachers is behind her (and her boy) for good.