I told you so...

I told you so...

The Buster cried when he got his new glasses last week. His was the prescription that changed the most, and the goal was to encourage the weaker eye to make more effort.

This meant the new glasses made his vision feel fuzzy and uncomfortable. He felt awful from the physical discomfort.

We agreed he would try them for a few days, and then we would go back to the eye doctor if necessary. He wore them a little more each session over the weekend and into the start of this week.

On the way to rock climbing on Wednesday, I asked him if the glass were feeling enough better or if we needed to go see the eye doctor when we were at Costco today.

“They feel enough better,” he said.

And he went on, “and I know you wouldn’t say ‘I told you so,’ that they are feeling better.”

“Of course not,” I said, “because we just didn’t know.”

His words about me not saying, “I told you so,” moved me much more than he could know.

Because, I AM an “I told you so.” I’m also a “Who did this?” And a “What happened here?”

I’ve been in households where someone had to be blamed for anything that went wrong. It is a very difficult habit to break.

I’m trying to learn to recognize that a lot of times it doesn’t matter who did what.

“I told you this would happen,” doesn’t actually do any good to the child who is crying from the anguish or pain. Better to comfort and support with, “How can I help?”

Blame, in general, I’m sort of over it.

Because what happens when someone has to be blamed?

You learn to hide and you learn not to share your ideas or plans.

I don’t want my children to have to hide or lie. It isn’t a fun way to grow up, and it doesn’t bring a family closer together.

Thanks, Buster, for reminding me about choosing to be my best self. I’ll keep on trying.

New Specs
New Specs