Once I entered middle age, I did myself the favor of dropping my high expectations. For every situation, I imagine the worst possible outcome, and the actual one is almost always better in comparison. When someone promises to do something, I brace myself for disappointment, and on occasion, I’m pleasantly surprised.
I haven’t schooled my children on this way of thinking yet, because they’re at that golden age where they expect the best out of their lives and the people in it. Watching it is bittersweet.
This morning, I held Bonnie, our Russian tortoise, up to my mouth, said, “Care for a Bonnieburger?” and took an imaginary bite out of her butt.
Anna watched, then replied, “She’s going to poop in your mouth.”
Real-life training is one of the most difficult parts of parenting. It’s always easier during those rare moments when they train themselves.