Lucy called.
“How is everything?” she asked.
“Nice! We spent the day in the park with Trish and Holly. There was an awful wind at the park . . .”
“Can I talk to one of the kids?”
“Uh, sure, just a sec. Here’s Jason.”
The phone worked its way through the children’s ears.
After a while, Lillie handed the phone back to me.
“Anything else?” I asked.
It was dead.
Collie came into the living room and sat on the couch, limp.
“What’s up?” I asked.
“Nothing,” he replied.
“You look sad.”
He shrugged.
“You want to talk about it?”
He shook his head.
“Are you still worried about the wind?”
He shook his head.
“Do you miss your mom?”
He shrugged.
“We can’t talk about it if you aren’t talking.”
He shrugged. “I’m going to play Game Cube.”
“Okay . . . let’s talk later if you want.”
He headed to his bedroom.
A few moments later, Lillie rushed into the living room. “Special delivery from Collie!” she shouted, waving a piece of paper.
It read: “I don’t know what’s wrong with me do you? (Please respond!)”
When Collie was five, he was upset about something and closed himself in his room. He did not want to talk. After a while, Lucy and I knocked on his door. He told us to go away.
We sat on the floor next to his door and wrote a note saying “We love you? Are you okay?” We passed it under the door and knocked. “Special delivery!”
He picked up the note and took it to his desk. He passed it back with his own addition: “Jason is bad.”
We passed him another note. He wrote a response. Soon the door was open and he was over his anger.
Since that time, Collie has often preferred to pass notes when he is upset.
I knocked on his door.
“No,” he said. “You are supposed to write a note!”
“I know, but I want to talk with you on my lap. Is that okay this time?”
He nodded. I took him in my lap.
“I know you can be sad when you miss your mom, or when you miss me. It’s hard to be away from your mom or dad. But you know we love you, right?”
He nodded.
“And you know you will see your mom soon, right?”
He nodded.
I showed him his note. “I think that is what is wrong with you right now. Talking to your mom reminded you that you miss her. You might feel better if you just think about seeing her soon. Can you try that?”
He nodded, smiling. I kissed his head, and left him to play a video game.
He was working the controls when Lillie came into his room waving a piece of paper. “Special delivery from dad!”
Collie took the paper and read it.
“You are a special boy and I love you. Dad.”
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6 comments:
That is the sweetest thing ever :)
C
you are one of the ebst parents ive ever....expirienced....damn i wish my mom was liek you, then i wouldnt be having so much difficulty right now with moving in with my bf...sorry..i shouldnt bother you with my issues, you ahve to many other ppl to care for, but your an amazing dad
Oh Jefferson, you made me cry! I wrote notes to my parents too!
Wow, Michelle, and I thought Collie invented that!
And Rejected, I'm sorry for the difficulties. Keep your eyes on the prize. This move was long in coming.
another good one jefferson. i have had similar issues w/ my kids and have done the same thing of reminding them about how much their mom and dad love them. good stuff
p.w.b.
p.s. i spoke w/ you via email earlier about divorce/kids/etc, but this was another post that was very interesting, so i had to comment :)
Thanks Poor Willie.
Man, I tell you--the time alone with the kids is can be the toughest, the easiet, the most rewarding, the most devastating thing in all this.
It's good that their mom and I recognize that we can't fight through the kids. You just can't do that.
We both love them too much. And we are grown up enough to know that villain/victim narratives have no place outside of silent movies.
Glad you get that.
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