No Bad Kids

My mind drifts like the cottonwood on the breeze to the peculiarness of seeing an extra-large U-Haul being hauled and the delight of seeing my daughter’s smile each time she dunked her face into the water fountain at Winco.

The strength of the scent of lilac in the air seems manufactured, like in Disney’s resort lobbies. Multiple plants spanning 20′ across our deck are in full bloom, and I’m surprised that I forgot how lovely they are.

A flicker stands at the convergence of two railings; its head turns and locks in on its direction. I have enough time to observe its long, black paint-dipped tail feather before it leaps off into a swan dive. Its belly barely brushes the ground before it sprouts wings, and ascends into its typical wave-like flight pattern.

I want you to know that I upgraded my parenting skills, and it’s paying off dividends. Specifically during transitional times when stopping one activity and starting another. For example when leaving the house, or getting ready for bed.

I now prioritize directness, providing one or two options, and stepping in at the moment I notice she’s distracted. I’ll say something like, “It seems like you’re having a hard time. It’s bedtime. Would you like me to help you get or can you do it?”

It makes a lot of sense to me, especially with being a mental health therapist. I’m aware of the amount of psychological upheaval and stressors that accompany transitions.

All I can say is that I’m digging it.

Anyway, that’ll do ‘er for tonight. Dave and Evelyn are inside baking chocolate chip cookies. I voted for Dairy Queen but got shot down. Welp, there’s always tomorrow.


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