Half a dozen of one, six of another

It was the end of another beautiful day in Tehachapi. We had just finished a successful dinner and our family was spending quality time together relaxing in the family room. Suddenly I recalled an article that I had read online the night before about cultivating strong characters in children and equipping them with life skills for happiness.

I turned to my husband and said, “It’s not healthy for our children to always be focusing on the negative.”

“I didn’t know that they were,” he responded from behind his newspaper.

“Do you know that one of the most common traits found in successful, well balanced, happy individuals is a positive outlook? I’m afraid if we reward our children for pessimistic behavior, we will ruin them.”

He lowered his newspaper reluctantly. I continued, “Someday when we are older, we may be living with them. Talk about being held accountable for every flaw we fail to curb in them today; our indifference could come back to haunt us in our old age.”

“Unless they put us in a home,” suggested my husband.

“That is exactly the attitude I’m talking about. And I will pay the higher price because women usually live longer than men. I will continue to be held accountable for our mistakes long after you are gone.”

“That’s not exactly positive either,” he said.

“Is that the only thing you have to say about this urgent matter?”

He stared at me oblivious to the gravity of our situation. I threw my hands up and said, “You have no suggestions?”

“I’d like to suggest they inherit their negativity from you.”

“Why do you say that?” I asked irritated by his comment when I noticed my younger son in the kitchen reaching for something in the trash. “Don’t touch that,” I warned him. “You could get flesh eating disease!”

“Look,” said my husband taking my hand, “our children are doing great.” He motioned toward the two on the couch, inadvertently drawing their attention.

“Sometimes we have to look at things realistically and it’s not necessarily pretty,” I argued.

“You’re telling me,” snickered my oldest son pushing his little sister sitting next to him.

She whipped off her tiara and hit him with it.

“Knock it off,” my husband warned and ordered them to apologize. He returned his focus to me and I continued, “Sometimes we have to meet our greatest challenges head on.”

I saw my oldest and my youngest still privy to our conversation; join their heads defiantly together like two goats locking horns in combat. I pulled them apart.

“Sometimes the truth must be spoken,” I said.

“Okay,” confessed my daughter dropping her head to her chest. “I really don’t like your tuna casserole we had tonight.”

My husband, with his hands on his hips, suddenly flew into action, “Everyone on the couch, right now for a family discussion.” I love it when he takes charge like that. The epitome of the father figure, a man in control, a husband that leads. He plopped down on the couch next to them and announced, “Your Mother has something to say to you.”

My little daughter clapped her hands in excitement and asked, “Do I win because I’m already here!”

“You dodo, how could you win when I was here too,” said her older brother with a smirk.

“Everyone knows that you don’t count!” she said getting in his face.

“That’s exactly what I want to talk about and I won’t tolerate it any longer! Do all of you understand me?” My three children stared at me wide-eyed with confusion.

“What I’m saying is that I don’t want to give negativity a place in our home.” I noticed everyone was nodding in agreement including my husband whose hands were folded in his lap. “I want an earnest attempt at this. Does anyone have any questions?”

My daughter’s hand shot up, “What is negativity?”

Knowing the best way to understand something was in the ability to explain it to others, I asked, “Would anyone like to answer that?” My husband’s was the only hand that rose.

“How about you?” I asked my oldest son who rolled his eyes and turned to his sibling.

“Negativity is saying things in a way that doesn’t really help anyone. Like pointing out a problem but not offering a solution.”

I had never really thought about it that way.

“I don’t do that,” she insisted.

“You just said that Mom’s tuna casserole was awful.”

“Sometimes the truth needs to be spoken,” she quoted me.

I’m always amazed to find that they are actually retaining anything I say, context aside.

She thought about that for a moment, searching for a solution to the tuna casserole problem and added, “All I meant to say was that I really like when there’s chicken instead of tuna in that casserole thingy we never eat. Is that more positive?” asked my daughter hesitantly.

“Yes, and that’s a very valid statement,” my husband responded, also not a tuna casserole fan.

“Okay,” my daughter said to her older brother, “now it’s your turn to fix your negativity and by calling me a dodo bird.”

“You’re not a dodo and I like your tiara,” he said gingerly. She got all teary eyed and threw her arms around him. My younger son joined in the group hug.

My husband and I looked at each other touched by the scene before us. Then he suggested exuberantly that we should all go to Baskin Robbins for an ice cream. The kids were ecstatic as we piled into the car and I had to agree with my husband that the kids seemed to be doing great.