Tonight I came home from work a little impatient for some reason. It is a normal Monday night- Dawn is going to Ladies Bible Study at seven, so I will try to manage the kids after dinner is cleaned up. Over a few small altercations, I begin to notice that my patience is thinner than I first realized.
Caleb is one year old, so I take him into a room where he can play with some toys, and I can avoid the bickering of the other kids. That lasts about five minutes because the others start taking their turns breaking into our euphoria to tattle on their siblings- You know, "Jonathan hit me with a pillow and bent my finger back!" Of course who was to know that Grace had been throwing the pillow at Jonathan while he was trying to vacuum the living room.
Anyway all these events lead to a showdown with an eight year old (the Clint Eastwood music would fit well here). "Why have you not brushed your teeth?" I ask in a very condemning and angry voice. After some lame excuses and a heated sermon from me, he goes to bed teary eyed. Somehow the victory lost it's appeal.
It boils down to this I expect my children to treat me with respect. I confess, I failed to respect him. A battle over a toothbrush. Yes it was also about obedience and respecting my authority, but did it have to come to that? We do have authority as parents, and by right we deserve a certain respect. There is however, a higher level of respect that comes when a child sees that they can trust even their feelings with you. Can we live up to the level of respect that we expect?
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