Yesterday I came across an article in a local family magazine where the Mom spoke of a separation anxiety issue. Interestingly enough, it was not the kid suffering from it nearly as much as the Mom was!
It got me thinking about how as parents we often think that we are here to teach our kids everything. When in actual fact, they teach us just as much - if not more?
Case in point:
I can't stand the sight of a cockroach - dead or alive.
I have smashed many a dustpan while in a fit of uncontrollable rage against a cockroach - not because I'm the Indiana Ashleigh of vermin hunting, but because I don't want any part left of the roach - a part that could possibly reproduce or mutate to come back and irk me!
Yesterday evening I found a cockroach in the spare bedroom. I was horrified. Might I add that P-J despises them almost as much as I do and to this end, refuses to assist in these situations. It's quite ridiculous, the two of us, I know. Be that as it may, there lay the deceased roach and an army of ants marching to his graveside. I knew I had to sort this out immediately before my house turned into a full blown science centre.
Jorja walked into the room and noticed the totally psyched out look on my face. "What's wrong?" she asked. "Eew, a cockroach..." she'd noticed. Out of sheer desperation - knowing that P-J would not budge on the matter and that Ethan may be tempted to play bumper cars with the thing - I murmured, "Oh please, Jorja, won't you pick this thing up and put it in the bin?" - only half convinced that I could ask this of my 5 year old daughter.
I turned away and walked to the kitchen, off to find rubber gloves, goggles, a thick wad of paper towel so as not to have to feel the roach...and all the courage I could muster. From the room I heard Jorja remark "Oh gross! Sies man! Terrible." I realised that I would have to suck it up and go and sort out the mess.
As I made my way back to the bedroom, I passed Jorja in the passage but kept on marching to the beat of my own terrified war cry. But when I got to the scene of the crime, it was clear. Had this darn thing found a second wind and moved on to another place in our home? Oh the horror!
"Jorja! Jorja! Where's the cockroach?" I screamed.
"Relax Mom, it's in the bin. I sorted it all out" she replied. "I'm going outside to play."
It got me thinking about how as parents we often think that we are here to teach our kids everything. When in actual fact, they teach us just as much - if not more?
Case in point:
I can't stand the sight of a cockroach - dead or alive.
I have smashed many a dustpan while in a fit of uncontrollable rage against a cockroach - not because I'm the Indiana Ashleigh of vermin hunting, but because I don't want any part left of the roach - a part that could possibly reproduce or mutate to come back and irk me!
Yesterday evening I found a cockroach in the spare bedroom. I was horrified. Might I add that P-J despises them almost as much as I do and to this end, refuses to assist in these situations. It's quite ridiculous, the two of us, I know. Be that as it may, there lay the deceased roach and an army of ants marching to his graveside. I knew I had to sort this out immediately before my house turned into a full blown science centre.
Jorja walked into the room and noticed the totally psyched out look on my face. "What's wrong?" she asked. "Eew, a cockroach..." she'd noticed. Out of sheer desperation - knowing that P-J would not budge on the matter and that Ethan may be tempted to play bumper cars with the thing - I murmured, "Oh please, Jorja, won't you pick this thing up and put it in the bin?" - only half convinced that I could ask this of my 5 year old daughter.
I turned away and walked to the kitchen, off to find rubber gloves, goggles, a thick wad of paper towel so as not to have to feel the roach...and all the courage I could muster. From the room I heard Jorja remark "Oh gross! Sies man! Terrible." I realised that I would have to suck it up and go and sort out the mess.
As I made my way back to the bedroom, I passed Jorja in the passage but kept on marching to the beat of my own terrified war cry. But when I got to the scene of the crime, it was clear. Had this darn thing found a second wind and moved on to another place in our home? Oh the horror!
"Jorja! Jorja! Where's the cockroach?" I screamed.
"Relax Mom, it's in the bin. I sorted it all out" she replied. "I'm going outside to play."
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| Jorja, my Hero! |
Definitely a little hero!
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