It’s hard sometimes being a mama and being, well, better at stuff than your kids. You know? Like, they want to be good at stuff right now, and you don’t want to discourage them, and they say stuff like, “I’m a really good draw-er, right, Mom? As good as you, right?” with their earnest scribbles, and, “I can match my clothes really good, Mom,” with the fuschia socks and the gold shirt and the green plaid skirt, and you can see they’re trying — they’re trying so hard — and they suddenly care about proficiency, and you don’t want to squash that initiative, so you LIE and say stuff back like, “Sure you are,” and, “You’re SO GOOD at that, sweetheart.”
Well, I recently took my oldest on a trip. My oldest who is 17 and a senior in high school and about to abandon me for college, so I’m taking any excuse I can find to force Quality Time upon her.
We landed at the beach.
And bless her heart — bless her heart, you guys — but she’s still trying SO HARD on that whole proficiency thing.
The child thinks she’s a dancer.
She thinks she’s got moves.
And, ultimately, she wants what I think all of us want, which is to be someday as proficient as our mommies and daddies are at life; that natural comparison of child to parent.
I didn’t want to discourage her, but I also felt like at 17 she’s old enough to understand she’s not good at everything yet, you know? Like at 17, she’s ready for some of life’s harsher truths.
So we did a dance off.
We posed it out.
And, although it’s difficult in some of these to tell us apart, which means she’s almost as proficient as me, if you look closely at Abby (on the left) and me (on the right), you can see she still has some work to do, like in this one:
And this one:
And this one:
In conclusion, Abby has some work to do.
Also, we can pray for her.