How to Watch Ducks Hatch and Sleep With Robin (but not at the same time)
Tolly P. Salz
I've spent all day with a four year old who, rather than spend time looking for the Robin figure that has somehow disappeared from his Batman set, has been demanding a new one. I've reminded him that things don't work that way in this house.
And yes, my words have been falling on deaf ears.
In this world of more, more, more and instant gratification NOW; of not knowing the difference between want and need; of not having a clue what working to earn something truly means, we are doing our children a grave disservice if we acquiesce to every single whim, whimper, and whine.
Recent articles that have been making their way around the web suggest that when children are "overparented" and not allowed to experience the normal successes and failures, gains and losses that life brings their way, their growth becomes stunted to some degree, and they find themselves as young adults with an emptiness that no amount of toys seems to fill.
It's a fine line to walk—when does good parenting spill into the realm of "overparenting"? And when does "underparenting" seep into the netherworld of neglect? I might have many of the right questions, but I certainly don't have all of the right answers. As a parent, all I can do is be intentional in raising my child, providing the framework for his growth. The growth part, however, is really up to him—as scary as that might seem.
A few weeks ago, during my regular preschool pickup, the director ushered me into her office. A family of unhatched duck eggs sat, nested together, in a small incubator nestled near her desk. One duckling had just squawked its way into this world while another was attempting to make its exit from the womb of its surrounding shell. It was breathtakingly beautiful.
But as we waited, as we watched, we began to worry, for all we could see was a half-emerged duck seemingly stuck inside the remaining shell. The poor little duck tush looked matted and frail, weakened from his efforts in existence.
We debated: would we sit idly by and watch this poor creature make his attempt at life, or would we intervene and assist with its exit? It seemed so cruel to watch the duckling struggle, yet we knew that poor duck simply needed to work its way out, on his own, without our aid. We had provided the necessary environment for his survival, but his life was truly up to him.
This struggle of becoming—and later, of being—is a natural part of our lives. It's not always easy, but if we get in there and solve all of our children's problems for them, we only cripple them further.
Just as we learned about the duck (who, by the way, survived splendidly and is on his way to future greatness, I am certain). Did you know that while emerging from their eggs, ducklings must work and rest to exercise the muscles they will need to stand on their own, and later, to fly? Furthermore, the shell's nutrient-filled lining contains essential elements that assist the newborns in their early days of life; as the duck pecks to crack its covering, it also eats. Had we taken the duckling too soon, we would have been robbing it of everything it needed for survival.
And I'll tell you—it's hard to stand by and, with a wing and a prayer, simply hope for the best for those you love. But I cannot think of many more ways to show our children just how much we believe in them when we let them work things out on their own. Because it's during these moments of struggle that they grow and learn beyond our teaching and intervening.
They learn that they can live without a Robin toy for a few days and actually, that it's pretty fun to play with real people, such as their siblings. They learn that if they want to earn better grades, they have to understand what effective studying looks like, and then take the time to work with wonder. They learn that they can read, and what's more—that they actually enjoy it. They learn that after years of several strike outs, it's possible to stack up the RBI's and even hit an out-of-the-park home run. They learn that it feels better when they don't quit. They learn that they are worth something far greater than they originally imagined.
It's a fine line, this high-wire tightrope of parenting. And even though I get it wrong more often than I get it right, only by working through the struggles—and surviving them—do I understand better how to navigate, with balance and purpose, this beautiful journey of life, as well as to take part in so much growth, both within and around me.
Update:
In my efforts to clean the house and clear the clutter, I stumbled upon a funny-feeling object in the bottom of the covers (yes, the covers of my bed—the one that the four-year-old likes to visit more often than I care to admit). Alas! Who could it be, but Robin! Lucky us!
But not nearly as lucky as when I found myself having to intervene, only to defend myself, in an attempt to explain to his teachers why, exactly, Mommy and Daddy were "sleeping with Robin." Surely this experience is providing its own growth. Lucky me.