The Dumper

When the other little boy I watch comes over in the morning, one of the first things the boys like to do together is dump everything onto the floor. They dump the blocks, the Rescue Heroes, the books, the Megablocks, the doctor set, the bin of balls; they dump and dump and dump until my entire living room floor is covered with toys.

Ever wonder who your child is going to grow up to be? Well duh... every parent thinks about that; some even obsess about it and live their lives trying to put every step in place so that their children become exactly who they want them to be.

Sadly, I often get caught up in the terrors of "what will my son be like when he is a teen." Will be get dumped or will he be the dumper? ...what if he's into drugs? ...what if he has pimples all over his face and can't get a girlfriend... what if, what if, what if. This is when my husband laughs at me and says "he hasn't even started t-ball yet, one thing at a time." I know he's right but it is so hard for a mother to let go of her worries about her children's future. They are her life and when she no longer has control over the life they will lead, it leaves a very helpless feeling in her soul.

There is this funny thing called self control. It's one of those fruit of the spirit that we are learned when we mastered the song "love, patience, kindness, goodness..." in Sunday school. I used to think self control was about controlling myself from doing bad things, such as stealing or cheating on homework. Since becoming a mother, self control has now added on new definitions : to give up the controls and let my son to build his own self: and to control the worrying. Worrying wastes precious thoughts, time and energy on things I will never be able to control. Self control means to let my son be a toy dumper now and allow him to become whatever kind of dumper or dumpee he will be as a teen.