Last week while the kids were home for a snow day, the boys decided to turn their room into their own store. Griffin hung this sign on the wall in the hallway:
They were so cute making price tags for items and pretending to sell stuff to each other. Griffin walked out to me with his ornery I've-got-a-secret grin on his face. I noticed a sticky note on his shirt. Apparently he had priced himself at $100.
I told him I'd buy him up in an instant! I also told him I'd pay waaaaaaay more than $100 for him. He kept raising the price and I kept affirming I'd pay it. We got to one quintillion (his favorite number) dollars, and I still said he was worth more. It was a great mother-son moment to tell my Griffin that he's priceless to me.
I'm pretty sure the moment was then ended by some other sibling quarrel or someone getting hurt or at least crying.
Fast forward to this week (Tuesday). Great day for the kids, decent evening. Jared was gone until late for a church board meeting and then the church basketball league, so I had to take all 3 kids to Nolan's basketball practice. It all went fine until we were leaving.
Then Griffin made a series of bad choices. It was one of those times when I was fuming and swore a punishment was a-coming, but I just couldn't think of an appropriate punishment right that minute. Ever have those?
Anyway, it was a rough time trying to get the kids ready for bed. We had to wait for Nolan to finish up his shower and teeth (the younger two showered before practice), so I made Griffin come sit with me to discuss where things went terribly wrong.
It wasn't the most pleasant conversation. I'm not sure if we made any progress in the grand scheme of me trying to teach him how the world works and how he should behave in it. But at least I stayed calm and tried my best to go beyond offense-punishment to actually discussing his behavior. I also tried to maintain physical contact with him the entire time to let him know I love him, even in the midst of a frustrating conversation.
At the end of the conversation, I said something like, "I know I'm not a perfect mom, but I'm doing my very best." He said I hurt his feelings by saying I'm not a perfect mom. I explained that everyone makes mistakes, including me. Then I jokingly asked if he wanted to get rid of me or trade me in for a different mom. He said no and then ran off.
I busied myself with getting everyone settled in bed, and Griffin ran back to me with something in his hands. He stuck a piece of paper on my back.
As he climbed into bed, I twisted my shirt around to see what he had written and taped to me:
Not for sale.
Griffin isn't looking to upgrade me just yet. I may not be a perfect mom, but I get to keep my job.