Letting Maturity Blossom

I’m often amazed at how my children’s growing maturity sneaks up on me.

Sometimes it’s about developmental milestones – like realizing that Luke is getting really good at stringing together words and sentences to communicate what he wants, something that seems to have blossomed just in the last few weeks.

Other times, it’s an indication that they are just a little more grown up, a little more capable than I’m giving them credit for.

A couple of weeks ago, Ashley was sent upstairs with instructions to clean her room. She’d never done it unsupervised (or without significant help from me), so I wasn’t expecting a great job. (In fact, if I’m really honest, I was just hoping that she wouldn’t somehow make it worse before I made my way upstairs to help.)

So I was quite surprised when after about 15 minutes, she called downstairs to tell me I should come look at what she had done.

I was even more surprised to discover that she had done quite a good job (and in only 15 minutes – quite a feat for my often highly distractible child!)

Of course I told her what a great job she had done.

And then I caught myself.

While I was saying to her, “Wow, you did a really terrific job picking everything up off the floor and putting it in its place!”, what I was thinking was it’s a pretty good job except…..except for the books that were all in the bookshelf, just not as neatly as I could have done it … except for the stuffed animals that were on their shelves, but not quite as orderly as I would have done it….except for the toys that were put up, but in a different place than I usually put them.

Where did all that come from?

She’s still a few months away from being 5 – she did an awesome job. And, it is, after all, her room.

Then I thought about times when I have “helped” her with a project, sometimes doing a little too much of it (despite her protests) because I wanted to make sure it was done “right.” And I know better – not only do I take away her sense of accomplishment, but I also take away the chance for her to learn.

I walked out of her room that day and resisted the urge to straighten the books, rearrange the stuffed animals, or move toys to a different location. Instead I gave her a hug, and told her how proud I was of her.

My reward? A few days later, she was sent to her room after one too many sassy remarks. After a few minutes of screaming about needing to come downstairs, she settled down – and cleaned her room.

Yes, sometimes their growing maturity sneaks up on me – especially if I give it room to blossom.