It's Not about the Floor

There was a time when I had two wee little girls. The eldest was perceptive, bright and very discerning. She decided what she wanted to do by weighing her options. The other was very much a free spirit, and unnervingly brilliant. She would laugh uproariously one second, and fly into a blind rage the next. There was a purity about her transparency of heart, warmth and genuine innate generosity that was irresistible. If my eldest took her crayons and colored the white linoleum squares of the kitchen floor, she would have decided that although retribution was guaranteed, the chosen canvas was ideal for her palette, overriding the voice of conscience. Not so with the other child. My littlest one would color her paper on the kitchen floor with obedient intentionality when noticing a stray scribble off the sheet and become enthralled at the beauty captured on this pristine surface. Going with the creative flow, perhaps ten squares might be fully covered in rainbows and flowers prior to the revelation of horror to hit her of what she had just done. Aghast, she would stand over her art in utter disbelief that she had so brazenly violated the sacred rule, “NO COLORING ON THE WALLS OR FLOOR!” 

So what’s fair? Both clearly broke a cardinal rule. My first born needed to understand authority and obedience. My younger child needed to understand impulse control, a completely different lesson. A mother’s intuition discerns the difference, but a child’s observation of differing consequences can build bitterness with the perception of disparate treatment. It’s tempting as a parent to even things out to appeal to the simplicity of fairness. Don’t do it. The goal is not to parent the behavior, but instead, parent the heart. It was never really about the floor.