Like it or not, children model their parents’ behavior. I know it’s true, because of this:
Me: parked at a red light, whistling a happy tune.
4yrold: GO LADY (and he’s not talking about me.)
Me: It’s a red light. That lady can’t go.
Or this incident:
Me: parked on the freeway during rush hour, minding my own business.
4yrold: GO LADY (still not talking about me)
I wonder where he learned those nasty words? Couldn’t have been his mom…
This isn’t an easy thing to admit in public. But all I can say in my defense is, it’s a good thing I don’t swear. Hearing this impatient phrase come from someone so small made me see I need to tone it down. Unless I want to raise a bunch of road-rage-prone people. Which I don’t.
Anyway, since my blog is about writing and reading, you’re probably wondering what this has to do with anything. And if you’re not wondering, you get to hear about it, anyway.
When my three kids were younger, I felt guilty (once or twice) snuggling up to read (or write), while they played. A good mom would get down on the floor and play educational games all day to help their children become the brilliant geniuses they certainly were. But sometimes a person just needs a break from tantrums during the day. So I read (and wrote).
Then I noticed something. They pulled out books to read, too. They also liked to write their own ideas down, sometimes.
My “bad” habit was rubbing off on them.
I guess I’m leading them down a dangerous road…