Last week my eight-year-old daughter sat at the kitchen table practicing math problems, and she scrunched her nose at a bowl of soggy Lucky Charms nearby. “Mom! Isn’t this my breakfast from two days ago??”
“Why yes, I believe it is,” I replied. “And who exactly is the maid that you expected to carry it to the dishwasher?”
“Uh…” her face went blank. “I was just saying it’s kind of disgusting.”
“I agree!” I smiled. “Which is why next time, you will put it in the sink instead of expecting me to do it for you.”
As if a parent exists for no other reason than to serve a child’s every whim.
It’s true we are called to serve our kids, but perhaps not in the way some might think. If we want our children to recognize their privileges as blessings and respond not with entitlement but rather with godly gratitude, there’s only one real way to make that happen.