Yesterday, at soccer practice, I listened to a 9 year old boy recite his resume....his grades, his position in his class, his test scores, etc. He paused and waited intently after each accomplishment to hear my response. Instead of lauding praise on this young lad, I asked him, "How do you feel about your (grades/class rank/test scores)?" He looked at me with a confused expression and responded, "My Mom is happy, she wants me to get into a good college!"
This morning, a thunderstorm awakened me and I felt the desire to huddle deeper into the bed covers. With the window open, the smell of dampness caressed my nose. The slaps of thunder and flashes of lightening made rooting in cotton sheets and down even more desirable.
As I scurried about the house, kissed my family as they slept, and drove in the rain to work, I wondered if the 9 year old soccer player, I had spoken to yesterday, enjoyed the thunderstorm as much as I had. Or, I wondered, was his mind already focused on his next important task?
As I scurried about the house, kissed my family as they slept, and drove in the rain to work, I wondered if the 9 year old soccer player, I had spoken to yesterday, enjoyed the thunderstorm as much as I had. Or, I wondered, was his mind already focused on his next important task?
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