G is for Gentle

Since our first son Quinn was born just over seven years ago, we have taught him to be GENTLE. Don’t bite Mommy when she’s nursing you. Don’t pull Daddy’s chest hair. Flat hands when petting the dog. Hug, don’t hurt.

But GENTLE extends well beyond physical aspects. We want our children to be gentle with their hands, their heads and their hearts as well.

I'm sitting at my desk looking out onto the front lawn. It is gorgeous outside. Sunny and hot. I am trying to focus on my current contract, but as I wrote yesterday, I am easily distracted.

Quinn and his friend are playing in the Mt. Tiki Super Soaker he received for his birthday. It shoots water straight up, with intense pressure, at unknown intervals. Scares the shit out of the kids, and makes them laugh hysterically. Fun to watch.

But after only a few minutes playing with the thing as it was intended, new methods were devised. Picking it up and aiming it at things (house, car, each other). Turning it upside down and blasting the grass out of the soil. Sitting on it in the hopes it will clean out their colons, I guess.

I just want my kids to be GENTLE. With everyone and everything. I don't want them wrecking lawns, garage doors, gardens and least of all bums.

Where did I go wrong?