That's why it's LOST

Mark needed a stencil set to complete his history project, and went into a full-fledged panic when he couldn't find it.

"Go look in your cubbies," I said, pointing to his bedroom. "It's probably in there."

"No, it's not," he cried. "It's LOST!"

"I know," I said patiently. "That's why you should look for it. It isn't gonna show up on its own."

"But...it's lost," he repeated, like I'm an idiot.

"I...KNOW!" I said. "If you want to find it, you have to look for it!" 

Somehow, the conversation stalled. It was like we were speaking different languages-- Mark just stared at me, wondering why we were still talking about this when clearly, the stencil was lost, never to reappear again, and I just stared at Mark, thinking, "Why aren't you looking for it?"

I realized this wasn't an isolated incident. Mark doesn't listen to me, let alone do anything I ask him to do. He proved as much last night, when he spilled spaghetti sauce all over his P.E. shorts. 

"They're fine," he said, wiping the sauce off with his hands (which he then smeared on his shirt). "Nobody washes their P.E. clothes anyway." 

And suddenly, I was grateful I don't teach P.E. to a bunch of stinky middle schoolers.

Further proof came this morning, when I asked Mark if he'd packed clean P.E. shorts in his backpack.

"Yes," he called back, in the tone he always uses to appease me.

"They're in the clean clothes basket in the garage," I reminded him.

"I already got them," he said.

"Good job," I called back. Pause. "You know I'm going to check, right?"

"I know," he answered. Pause. Then I heard the feet scurrying down the hall, and the garage door swinging open. A moment later, it slammed shut again, and he called out, "I found them!" He sounded very pleased with himself.

Of course you did, I thought to myself. Because I told you exactly where to find them! 

But I held my tongue. I'd spent all this time telling Mark where his stuff was, and I didn't need to--in the end, he took care of it. He drew pictures without the stencils, and he had clean clothes for P.E. He survived. I didn't need to put so much energy into all the yelling. 

I realized victory is not always saying I told you so--sometimes, it's just a means to an end, getting positive results for whatever task I asked the kid to do. And if that means shutting my mouth and letting him take credit for the final results, so be it. The mission was accomplished either way.

And then I realized something else.

I spent all this time yelling to get my point across, and my lesson totally backfired on me! 

Dang it...I hate it when that happens.
 

Yeah, I..."lost"...it

Today, while riding past us on a scooter, a kid yelled out, "Hey Mark, where's your backpack?"

Mark glanced down at his plastic box, then at me and stammered nervously, "Uh...." I could tell he didn't want to tell the story, which did not exactly place him in a good light.

But the kid didn't even slow down long enough to listen. He passed Mark by and said, "You lost it, huh?"

Mark seized the excuse for all he was worth.

"Yep!" he called out happily. "I lost my backpack!" He'd never been so proud to lose something.

Then he grinned at me, daring me to call him out on it. Instead, I mimicked him and squeaked out, "Yeah, I lost my backpack. Silly me!"

We both cracked up. I wasn't gonna rat him out anymore than he was gonna rat himself out.

"Try not to lose anything else today!" I called out as he crossed the street. He turned and shook his fist at me, laughing, and I laughed in return.

Hey, at least we can laugh about his plastic box now, which is more than I can say for the day he got it!