On Thursday when I picked the girls up from school, Greenleigh was babbling on about the field trip she had gone on that day. How she had fun, how all her friends went, how they stopped at a park to have snack time after their original destination, and how she couldn’t wait to go on tomorrow’s field trip. “Mommy, there’s going to be a clown there, but that’s okay, I like clowns now. I didn’t like them as a baby, but I like them now.” I wondered what in the world possessed the school to schedule a field trip with a clown – because, seriously, what little kid likes clowns? They’re creepy and 99% of the time have no concept or respect for personal space (sorry, clown population, but it’s true). I knew that this field trip could possibly lead to nightmares or counseling, but she was excited and that was all that mattered. “Oh, that should be fun,” I replied.
And no more was said about it.
Until Greenleigh and I were going through the clean laundry (which was piled up on the couch and waiting to be folded…it might still be there today…I’m not telling) that night looking for a clean camp t-shirt for her to wear the next day. “No mommy, I don’t want to go on the field trip. There’s going to be a clown there. I don’t like clowns.” A little surprised, I reminded her how excited she had been in the car. How fun it was going to be – yes, I tried my hardest to make clowns sound fun…trust me, it was hard. And I told her that they would probably get to play on the playground once the clown was done. But she was having none of it. I tried to talk to her about it again but she shut me down cold. She was not having any talk of this field trip to see a clown. Instead, she picked out another outfit and wouldn’t even let me set the camp t-shirt near it, in the event she changed her mind the next day. Her words to me before I closed her door for bed? No. Clown.
Got it.
The next morning we all got up and I tried to give her one last opportunity to change her mind, which, of course, she didn’t. She got dressed in her normal, non-field trip, clothes. And all was well, until I got a call from one of the teachers asking where Greenleigh was. Apparently, in a moment of stellar parenting, I missed the sign on the door that the field trip was a morning field trip and the bus was leaving at 9:15am. We were running late, but I explained to the bus driver that Greenleigh had decided that she wasn’t going on this field trip anyway. And all was fine until I told my husband who had called and Greenleigh piped up, “But I want to go on the field trip. I just want to wear my camp shirt over my regular shirt.”
Wait. What? We’ve been talking about this field trip for no less than 12 hours and you said you weren’t going. Remember, the clown? And then her little lip began to quiver…
Ladies and gentlemen, I was a mess. I was angry that she had done a 180 in such a short period of time, but that was quickly overshadowed by how upset she was. I hate to see her so upset.
I must teach her consequences – I know this. I must teach her that our words and actions have meaning, and sometimes we can’t go back on the decisions we’ve made. Life is hard and unfair. And other times we just make bad decisions that we regret. Sometimes we find courage at the last possible minute only to find out it’s too late to actually use it. These are things that I must teach her. I know. If only it didn’t have to be so hard.
As a mom, I struggle between between this innate desire to wrap my girls in bubble wrap and protect them from every bad thing that could possibly come their way (or bad decision they might make), and being terrified of one day living with adult children who don’t understand consequences or have grasp on reality all because I protected them too much when they were younger.
So what would you have done? Drive her to the park (which is on the way to school) to drop her off at the field trip or let her realize that she made a decision? At 4 years old, how far do you go to to teach consequences?
This is a tough one, especially since there was a clown involved. They are terrifying and it was in fact protecting her by keeping her the heck away from it. Hahaha. But in all seriousness, I hate seeing my girls upset as well. That doesn’t change the fact that they are responsible for their actions and their decisions. If they miss out on something once, it’s sad but it will make them consider their actions and decisions more carefully next time. I always think of it this way….it’s hard to see them upset but I’d rather see it once than every time they make a bad or careless decision. Next time, you may not have the option to bring her to the park and save her from her own bad decision. Better to live with it once and have them think it through next time than have them upset multiple times while you try and save them from themselves (and eventually resent them from making you run in circles). It’s not our job to shield them from the world (no matter how much we want to), it’s our job to teach them to live in it.