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Mothers Don’t Always Know Best
Sometimes the kids know better
As my adult children approach the big 50, I wonder when they became smarter than me.
Was it when my daughter came home from pre-school and asked me to make trees for dinner? “Trees? I asked. “Yes Mommy, trees”. “I don’t know what you mean by trees”. Her frustration was mounting as she tried to explain. To stop a temper tantrum, I called her preschool teacher, Mrs. Davis, and was told the “trees” were broccoli, dummy”. Well, she didn’t really say dummy, but she might as well have since I felt that way.
Not to be outsmarted by a 4-year-old, I served broccoli for dinner, no more mushy green beans and corn from a can, the only vegetables I ate growing up. Thanks to my 4-year-old, I was introduced to several new varieties of veggies.
When she and her brother were tweens, they forced us to recycle. Who ever heard of saving the earth by separating bottles, cans, plastic, and paper from the garbage?
They watched a video about pollution and landfills in school and how common waste was damaging the environment.
After school they were ready to call the police on us, so we succumbed, lined up 4 large trash cans, and labeled them accordingly. We became compliant recyclers.
