Tuesday, December 7, 2010

On sensitivity

"Mommy, which one should we get?" Elijah asked. "Whichever one you like," I replied. "I think we should get this one (the red, green and white snowflake one) because it has more color than this one (the snowman)."

I secretly smiled and thought, this is my child through and through. He wants to make the best decision. He responds positively to color and seeks it out. I didn't know I was teaching him these things, but I guess when I marvel at autumn trees or talk about the different colors on our dinner plates, I'm teaching him to be sensitive to color.

A gift, this sensitivity can be.

At times, it can be a burden. We walked to the children's workshop in Lowe's the other day and Elijah didn't want to build the featured item. He explained that when he walked near the working kids, his stomach started doing flips. I cringed that I heard myself in him. I hated that he inherited my burdensome natural inclination to flee uncomfortable situations. I would rather him not have the negatives that accompany this sensitivity.

However, who can resist a child who sits and drinks hot chocolate with his mother, finishes and says, "Thank you for making me hot chocolate, mommy. That hot chocolate made my heart warm."

Or when the current outdoor resident of our local Target asks for money for long johns, my almost-seven-year old, says "aren't you going to give him some money." When I respond "no;" he says, "if I was a man, I would go to the bank and get some money and bring it to that man."

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