My six-year-old daughter has a selective memory. I want to be more like her.
“Hi, sweetie! How was your day?” I flashed a big smile at my girl as she lugged her backpack into our minivan, which was idling in the carpool line.
“Great, Mom! It was the BEST DAY OF SCHOOL EVER!”
“Wow! Best day ever, really? So you liked your field trip then.” I grinned in the rearview mirror while she buckled her seatbelt. That afternoon, her class had boarded a bus to the local opera house for a traveling production of Junie B. Jones—big-time entertainment for first graders.
“I loved it! Mom, there were REAL people on the stage. It was so much fun.”
For the rest of the afternoon and evening, my daughter chirped nonstop about the merits of live theater. When I tucked her into bed that night, I kissed her forehead and said, “I’m so happy you had a good day today. It sounds like June B. Jones was a special memory you can keep for a long time.”
Best day ever, right?
Which is why I was blindsided when her teacher pulled me aside the next morning.
“Did she tell you about her little incident yesterday?” Mrs. H stood inches from my nose, whispering in mom-to-mom conspiracy.
“No, did something happen?” My eyes grew round. “She only talked about what a great day she had.”
“Well, she poked Johnny with a pencil and then she hit Bobby over the head with a shoe. So I had to nip it in the bud. I sent her to the principal’s office.”
“What?!?” Suddenly I envisioned my sweet girl in handcuffs and a blaze orange jumpsuit, shuffling her shackled feet on a final death walk to the school office only because her mother neglected to mention we should keep our shoes to ourselves. “She didn’t say a word, that stinker! She told me it was the best day at school ever!”
God bless Mrs. H—she laughed. And so did I. See, typically my child is the compliant one, the teacher’s helper, the mother hen who scolds her classmates when they don’t follow instructions. So we took yesterday’s outburst as a sign that my daughter is becoming more comfortable at school, which is a good thing. She probably thought she was being silly. Too bad her version of silly is whacking a dent in another kid’s head. Mrs. H encouraged me not to fuss about it, and I thanked her for informing me.
Because apparently nobody else was going to.
Funny, isn’t it? For most kids, their first trip to the principal’s office would qualify as a shamefully memorable event. Heck, when I was in grade school, I’d have been mortified to come home and tell my parents I got in trouble, not just with the teacher, but with the man in charge! The wizard behind the office curtain! What a HORRIBLE day!
Nope. Not my daughter. She completely skipped over that part and defined her Tuesday as The Day I Saw Junie B. Jones in a Real Live Awesome Amazing Super Fun Theater! BEST DAY EVER!
Did she lie about the shoe thing? I don’t think so. Crazy as it seems, I believe she actually forgot about it.
I wish I could do that.
When I lay my head down on the pillow at night, where do my thoughts stick?
I yelled at the girls again this morning. I’m such a terrible mom.
I left the dishes soaking in the sink. What’s my problem? I can’t handle my own household.
He cut me off when I told him about the book I’m reading. My husband doesn’t care.
Oh, really? Well, those things might’ve happened, sure, but a more objective view of my day would also recall this:
We snuggled on the couch and ate popcorn together. My girls love me so much.
An old friend called today. It was such a blessing to catch up with her. What a bright spot in my week.
My husband cooked dinner and gave the kids a bath so I could sit and read for a while. He really cares about me.
Turns out I have a selective memory, too. Only, unlike my daughter, my memories default to the negative—to rehashing everything that went wrong instead of thanking God for what went right. That is a choice I make. And it’s the wrong one.
“For as high as the heavens are above the earth, so great is his love for those who fear him; as far as the east is from the west, so far has he removed our transgressions from us. As a father has compassion on his children, so the Lord has compassion on those who fear him,” (Psalm 103:11–13).
I am a child of God. Do you know what that means? When I mess up, God forgives me and hurls that transgression so far away, he doesn’t even acknowledge its existence anymore. What right do I have to keep reeling it back in?
“Mom, can I tell you something?” My six-year-old sat at the kitchen table later that evening, hanging her head and looking up at me with remorseful puppy eyes.
“Sure, sweetheart. You can tell me anything.” I knelt to her level and squeezed her knees.
“Yesterday,” barely a whisper, “I had to go to the principal’s office.”
“Oh.” {Pause.} “I see. Do you want to talk about it?”
“No. You’ll get mad.”
“Sweetie, look at me.” I smiled. “Do I look mad?”
“No.” Her expression perked up, hopeful.
“I’m not mad, lovey. I’m glad you told me. Let’s talk about it. Then I’ll tell you about how I got sent to the principal’s office, too.”
“You did? When you were a little girl?”
“Noooo, just this morning, actually.”
“What?” She crinkled her nose.
“Yeah. I barked at your dad about leaving his socks on the floor. Pretty naughty, huh?”
“Dad sent you to the principal’s office?”
“Not exactly. I sent myself there when I prayed to God for forgiveness. Same thing.”
“What happened then?” She smiled now.
“I forgot about it. And you know what? It was the BEST DAY EVER.”
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If this post encouraged you, please share it. You might also like I Know Why Dinosaurs Are Extinct, How My Walk of Faith Is Like a Stroller Ride, and When Left to Their Own Devices.
Linking up with: Playdates With God, Titus 2sdays, Wedded Wednesday, Grace at Home, Thriving Thursdays, and Things I Can’t Say.
You’re always so inspiring, Becky! Thank you.
Thank you so much for reading, Kendra! It’s always good to hear from you here. 🙂
So adorable…and love the analogy! Thank you for the inspiration. ♥
Thank you for reading, Nannette!
Oh, Becky – this went straight to my heart! Oh, yes we all get sent to the principals office – and sometimes we do things that in our head seem so right but in real life aren’t interpreted that way! I think that’s when it’s more mortifying to be sent – but I sure do love your message, your story and your sweet conversation:)
You bless me every time you stop by here, Maryleigh. Thank you so much for sharing your thoughts!
Such a great story with such a great perspective. tucking this one in the memory bank. thank you for sharing these words.
And thank you for tucking it in the bank… that makes me smile. 🙂
Oh I love this! My son has exactly the same mentality as your daughter – he always remembers the best things that happened to him. I try every day to be more like that.
I think your son and my daughter are onto something. 🙂
We could learn a lot from our little ones – I too tend to focus on the negative. I love how you handled it in the end.
I learn from my littles every day, Barbara! And supposedly it’s my job to teach THEM. God is funny.
That is so funny! I could see my middle and youngest boys totally forgetting about a trip to the principal’s office. My oldest is more like me- he’d freak out and that would be all he would focus on.
Your oldest, you and me – we’re all alike that way. Let’s try to be more like the glass-half-full kiddos, Shell.
Haha! This sounds like something my own six year old daughter would do. She always says she had a great day even if she did get into trouble. Sometimes she’ll get in trouble for talking in line and I’ll remind her not to do it but she’s like, “Mom! Sometimes people are TELLING ME IMPORTANT THINGS. It’s rude to tell them to be quiet.”
Oh now that is FUNNY!! At least she has good intentions. God bless her for calling it a great day regardless.
I think as moms and as adults, we tend to worry so much about our responsibilities and image. Are our tasks being done well or are we failing? Are others noticing that we didn’t do (fill in the blank) perfectly? Don’t know when that perfectionism trap gobbles us up. But somewhere along the line we quit letting things roll off our backs and trade the carefree childlike mindset in for bending over backwards to meet some crazy expectation that even God never had of us! (Huff, puff! I’m on that hamster wheel with you and challenged every time I visit to get off!)
BTW, I’m always in awe of the way you look at life through your daughter’s eyes, Becky. You see and paint it here for us in all the colors of the rainbow. All I can say is, “The Kingdom of heaven belongs to these little ones!”
Darn that hamster wheel, Beth! Perfectionism has proven to be my downfall and I’m determined to recover before my kids learn it from me. Bless you, my friend, for showing up here faithfully with your wisdom and encouragement. I look forward to the day we can meet in person!
So sweet! I was looking at this post through the eyes of a teacher, which I am, and I loved how we change bad moments into something good. Coming to you today from Messy Marriage!
Blessings, Mary!
Hi, Mary! Thanks so much for stopping by from Messy Marriage! Any fan of Beth’s is a friend of mine. 🙂
I love how you gave your daughter the space to share with you, and how you showed your behavior is not always perfect, as well. Just beautiful!
Im so glad you linked up and wrote about this. I have an 8 year old who sounds a lot like your daughter. And she has that same selective memory, and I wish I had it too. That childlike not remembering and dwelling is something we lose. It was brave of you to talk about missing that, actually.
You know… I have rears in my eyes…this is exactly what I needed. Thank you so much for taking the time to share this with me here. Its amazing how God works with my heart through people like you.
Thank you for reading, Alina. Blessings to you and your household.