Jon doesn’t understand why I took Sam some water. Jon is my husband. Sam is our oldest son. See, Sam was working at his new job washing cars at Billco Motors, about 2 miles away from our house. The phone rang.
“Mom, can you do me a favor?”
“What?”
“Could you bring me some water? I’m thirsty.”
“Can it wait, like, an hour? I’m going out then.”
“But I’m thirsty now. If you wouldn’t mind.”
Usually I’m really good at saying No. Witness the following true exchanges:
“Mom, can we get Grand Theft Auto?”
“No.”
“Mom, can I stay out all night after homecoming?”
“No.”
“Mom, can I skip school today? We’re not doing anything, I swear!”
“No.”
I have no problem saying No. I don’t think kids should get whatever they want just because they want it and/or just because we can afford it. I learned this lesson early on, around the time of the Pokemon craze, when all the kids in school were trading cards and sometimes stealing them from each other. Some kids tricked the younger ones into making bad trades. The bottom line was that kids ended up in tears just because they weren’t allowed to buy new cards every time we left the house, or they ended up in tears just because they made a bad trade, or they ended up in tears, well, just because.
“I’ve made a decision,” I announced one day. “No more Pokemon. You can keep what you have. But no more trades, and we’re not buying any more cards.”
I braced for angry protests and tearful outcries. They shed, collectively, around three tears, then forgot about it. I think they were relieved. Pokemon was relegated to its proper place as one of many games they could play, but it was not one of any particular importance.
“No” became a powerful way to exert discipline and control. I’ve used it often. “No” is the reason people make a point of telling me how nice my kids are, how well-behaved, how mature. I haven’t spoiled them.
But I just could not say “No” to Sam when he called me, asking for water.
Here’s why. When I ask him to run up to the grocery store because I forgot to get a few things when I was there, he does it. Not only does he do it, he compares prices and uses the shoppers’ card so we can accumulate points for free gas.
When I ask him to give me his old computer since he’s not using it, not only does he say OK, he cleans the hard drive and transfers everything from my old computer onto the one he’s giving me and finds me free copies of updated software that he downloads and registers for me when I can’t find my own copies. My life is made exponentially easier, since I manage every aspect of our lives from the computer.
When I ask him to go pick up one of his brothers at a friend’s house, no matter what day or time it is, he goes.
When I tell him to be home by midnight, he walks in the door at 11:59 (or earlier), locks up and turns out all the lights before going to bed. Quietly.
Before he leaves for school in the morning, he reminds me it’s going to rain and to bring in the cushions, if he hasn’t already brought them in himself.
When he gets home every day, the first thing he says is “Hi Mom, how was your day?”
Before he goes to bed at night, he kisses me and says “Goodnight Mom, I love you.”
When he gets into his car and I say “Drive carefully,” he says “Don’t worry, I shall,” and he does. I think he does. And yes, he says “shall”.
So he got this new after-school job washing cars at Billco Motors. He put in 32 hours his first week. He thinks he’s in heaven, tending to cars, driving sweet rides and old clunkers, getting paid for paying attention to cars.
Sam is 17. He’s graduating from high school next month. He leaves for college in August. He’s grown, and he’s almost gone. I’m missing him already.
So when he calls me asking for this small favor, this really unnecessary thing that would just make him feel good, I don’t say No.
I say OK, I’ll be there soon.
