When my son was born, like most parents, I was presented with the most perfect gift – a healthy, peaceful, miniature bundle of happiness that filled me with a warmth and satisfaction that I could not have hitherto imagined existed on this planet. In my son’s first few months, people would often comment to me on his beauty and his easy-going nature – quickly followed up with a comment of ‘but it will change’.
Put on notice by the general public, I waited for the fussiness and orneriness commonly associated with babies and toddlers to kick in. But, aside from the odd display of defiant willfulness, it didn’t. My son radiated happiness, contentment, and a joy in being present and in the world.
From the moment that he learned to do the royal wave at the age of nine months, within moments of meeting a stranger’s eyes he was able to captivate their attention and capture their heart. He was safe and secure in his world. In other words, he was a kid who didn’t yet know that the world isn’t going to love him.
As my son grew, his talent for commanding a room swelled. With a simple display of his irresistible smile, he would easily become the central focus, generating good will and inspiring feelings of love and generosity. Upon reflecting on this phenomenon that seemed to me nothing less than miraculous, I realized that, quite simply, my son sparkles.
When I tentatively asked my cousin if she had ever noticed how some people sparkle more than others, she told me a story about how her mother, a social worker who worked with kids that had behavioral problems, used to bring her to work with her when she was a child. One time, observing the kids that her mom was working with, she noticed that while most of the kids were obviously damaged in some way, she could never figure out what was ‘wrong’ with Anna. When she asked her mother, her mother explained that there was nothing actually wrong with Anna, it was just that she had such a life force that her family, so unimaginative and staid, couldn’t relate to her and so had sent her in to social services to be ‘fixed’.
As a parent, this story resonated with me since I find myself constantly on guard against the inner voice that occasionally tries to tame my son’s spirit, threatening to teach him that you could be great, if only you were different: less than, more of, other than whom you are. Instead of this lesson, I want my son, as he grows and develops, to incorporate the fact that he is entitled to love, just the way he is, warts and all, into the very fabric of his being.
Often, I find that my greatest challenge is to prolong the illusion that he is perfect just being who he is while creating the conditions that will clear the obstacles impeding him from becoming the person that I know he can be without dimming the light that makes him shine. And so, between the battles of what to eat, how much to eat, when he has to go to bed, and what activities and behavior are acceptable, I am constantly reminded that my greatest role as a parent is not to dictate and micromanage, but to stand back and create the conditions that will allow my son to evolve into the person that he is meant to be without diminishing the light that attracts the world to him.