I'm Lindsay Ferrier, a Nashville writer with a passion for family travel, exploring Tennessee, and raising kids without losing my mind in the process. This is where I share my discoveries, along with occasional deep thoughts, pop culture tangents and a sprinkling of snark. Want to get in touch? Use the CONTACT form at the top of the page.
March 17, 2010
>My daughter’s five-year-old friend gazed in awe at Punky’s Silly Bandz collection, which they had just spread out across the kitchen table.
“Wow, you have a cloud!” she said admiringly. “And a dinosaur and a heart and a star… I don’t have any of those.”
“Wanna trade for them?” Punky asked. Her friend reflexively put a protective hand over her own arm, where at least 50 Silly Bandz were tangled around her wrist.
“Well,” she said carefully. “I can only trade one.” Slowly, she unpeeled a few Silly Bandz from her wrist and separated them. “I guess you can have this one.” She handed Punky the letter ‘T.’
“Okay!” Punky said excitedly. “Now you can pick one of mine. You can have anything you want except the lion, because I only have one of those.” Eagerly, Punky’s friend grabbed a cloud. “Can I have a heart, too?”
“Sure!” Punky said.
“Now Punky,” I said from where I was making dinner at the kitchen counter. “You’re supposed to trade those, remember? You give Emily one that she doesn’t have and she gives you one that you don’t have.”
“Oh yeah,” Punky giggled. “What do you want to trade for the heart?”
“I don’t want to trade,” Emily replied. “Can’t I just have it?”
Punky thought for a moment and then smiled. “Sure,” she said easily. “Take whatever you want.”
As Emily began grabbing up Punky’s Silly Bandz and putting them on her wrist, I fought an urge to leap over the kitchen counter and put a stop to what was going on.
But I didn’t. Despite the fact that I most certainly did not buy those highly-coveted and often hard-to-find packs of Silly Bandz for Punky’s friend to wear home on her wrists, I stayed out of it.
“Why on earth didn’t you stop her?” my husband asked me when I told him the story later.
“Because it occurred to me as I stood there with steam coming out of my ears that Punky’s hallmark is her generosity,” I said. “Think of all the times she’s given her toys to her friends. Nice toys. Toys she really liked. I would never have done that at her age. And I realized that if she’s already mastered the idea at five that it’s all just stuff and that it feels really good to give what she has away and use it to make someone else happy, then she’s ahead of most adults.”
“You make a good point,” Hubs said. “I agree with you.”
A few months ago, I read a book called Revolutionary Parenting, by George Barna. He interviewed young adults who by all accounts have sound morals and vibrant and active spiritual lives, and then he interviewed their parents to find commonalities in how those young adults were raised. The book details the findings of that research.
One of the points that stuck with me is applicable to any parent, regardless of spiritual beliefs. Almost all of the parents of these young adults had placed great emphasis on their moral achievements growing up, as opposed to academic or extracurricular achievements. In other words, while so many “involved” parents around us are saving their greatest encouragement for straight A’s or the number of goals scored in soccer, these parents cheered for their kids most when they displayed honesty in a tough situation, or compassion for the poor.
Or generosity.
“Punky,” I said quietly as her friend mulled over her Silly Bandz, “I am so proud of you for being so nice and giving your friend your Silly Bandz. Most kids would only have traded them. But I love the way you give what you have to others.” Punky grinned at me proudly, her eyes sparkling. And then I saw Emily reach across the table and grab an orange Silly Band.
“Hold up!” I shouted. Emily looked up at me, shocked, and dropped the Band back on the table. “You can’t have that lion, Emily,” I huffed. “It’s the only one she has!“
Me? I’m still working on that generosity thing.
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