no thanks

Am I really a grumpy stick-in-the-mud? Or has having kids opened my eyes to the craziness that this world is? (Rhetorical questions, completely rhetorical... although I'm totally feeling the latter.)

Today I went with Morgan's second grade class on a field trip to a local nursery. It was clean, well-hosted, nicely organized and void of any other school groups. Right up my alley. The kids played games, painted pumpkins, took a wagon ride, climbed a pyramid of hay bales. All in all, a great time was had. But even at seven years old, a couple kids (mine included) were in tears for various reasons: the spooky corn maize and the haunted house, to be specific.

My kid can read. "Enter if you Dare" just isn't going to work, no matter how friendly the font.

I hesitate to verbalize my thoughts to other parents, knowing my child is the exception (so instead I just write here, ha). I don't want to be that parent. The uptight one who can't relax and let her daughter enjoy a little fun. The thing is, though, my kid isn't having fun. Not when the commentary is peppered with words like spooky, haunted, creepy, scary, you get the idea.

I want her to be brave. I want her to realize that these things are fakes, harmless, meant in jest. But when panic sets in and tears are streaming, it's hard to reason. She's no fool. She knows her likes and dislikes. So why does it feel different for her say 'no' to a haunted house tour than it does to say 'no' to going on the swings on the playground? In my mind, it's the same - she makes good choices for herself knowing her own limits and desires. And yet sometimes it doesn't feel that way when comments meant to comfort just keep coming, wave after wave. As I crouch beside her in a net of safety, I smile to the others, mentally wishing them away, knowing full well that no amount of coercing from friends or parents will sway her.

Even though so many do not understand, I love this about Morgan. She is brave, going against the grain, risking embarrassment to stand her ground. She won't cave to pressure, but instead retreat to find relief and clarity. She's distinctly different than the rest, and I can't help but believe that God has gifted her with this ability in her character to keep her safe as she grows. As difficult as it is to work though, I know this practice will be helpful as she faces even bigger choices down the road.

A tiny blip in our two-hour excursion. A big deal in my little girl's day.