I used to love splashing in puddles.
Big or small, it used to be fun to see it and then think about what I would do with the upcoming puddle. Would it be a running launch and two-footed splash? Would it be a sly one-foot splash to wet someone else? Oh puddles were such fun.
Of course in as much I loved puddles, my Mum wasn’t so keen on them and so would encourage me to stop splashing in them. This level of encouragement became insistent enough for me to understand that were I to persist then she would hand the matter to my Dad to apply his own brand of family judicial review on the issue. Thus eventually I learnt the importance of not splashing in puddles.
Indeed these days if at all possible I walk around or jump over a puddle so as not to get too wet by them. Surely Mum and Dad would be pleased.
Currently, however, my daughters are coming across puddles. They are not programmed as I am to avoid puddles, so I must do my bit in informing them of the hazards of puddle-splashing. Yet when I look at it now in trying to enforce that principle, I’m stumped. It’s alright for Deborah, the oldest child. She genuinely doesn’t want to get wet and so sees more value in avoiding puddles. Abigail, however, is an action girl by heart and puddles equals action. Now I tell her that if she splashes in the puddles she’ll get wet – but that’s the point. She wants to get wet. That’s why she’s splashing in the puddle.
The next stage of the argument is to point out the bad things of getting wet. 1) You’ll catch a cold: Well, you’ll catch a cold anyway, as long as you’re outside and open to the elements that’s always likely. Unless the puddle is a truly mammoth one, you’re hardly likely to be that much more drenched to induce the dreaded cold. 2) You’ll get your clothes wet and mucky: Your clothes are already wet. You can dry them when you get home.
In actuality, the reason why I tell Abigail not to splash in the puddle is more for my convenience than it is for her good. Not suggesting that this was the reasoning behind my Mum telling me. Just realising that in this area, as in probably other areas, the reason for instructing a child is more for my sense of peace of mind, or for my own convenience than it is for the child’s genuine overall wellbeing.
It is a very pleasant sentiment to say you’re looking out for the child’s welfare and doing what you see is best for them, but that can really be a cover fr just doing what’s best for us, especially considering how much it would cost for the child to actually have fun exploring her world.
That doesn’t just apply in parent-child relationships – it’s a kind of cover we use for a lot of other relational things. It’s the kind of excuse that you see organisations give their employees for why they won’t change a policy. It’s the kind of reason a good husband will try and pull over his wife to stay in and watch the football while she does the grocery shopping on her own. (My wife sees through it already, so I use my mate’s other ploy and have a stomach bug.) You can see it in some of your own behaviour and in the behaviour you see from others.
It’s not a bad thing, necessarily, but it is important to recognise so that when you behave in such a way you know it’s not always about the best thing, or the right thing. I don’t know if I’ll love splashing in puddles again, but I do hope that if Abigail avoids them, she does for the right reasons.
For His Name’s Sake
Shalom
dmcd
Life With CD 