The other day my youngest daughter asked me a question I’d been dreading. She looked up at me with her pleading brown eyes and said, “Mommy, can I do your hair?” I decided to risk it and let her take her comb, brush, and enough ponytail holders to style a small army and unleash her creativity on my head. At one point I may have expressed my displeasure at her rough treatment of my hair by saying, “Hey! Ouch!” That girl put her comb right in my face and said, “Mom. Don’t cry. Be brave. And stop wiggling.” And she went right back to work.
It was just the perspective adjustment I needed as I heard my own words parroted back to me. How many times have I had to deal with a stubborn knot while braiding her beautiful curls? How many times has she cried as I begged her to just sit still and let me finish? How often have I have I been short tempered with her when what she needed was a little compassion?
Being a good mom is hard work, but it can also be tough to be a little kid. Sometimes we forget how frustrating it can be when you can’t tell your right shoe from your left and you keep getting scolded about it. We can get angry with a child who keeps getting toothpaste all over the sink, but we’ve forgotten what it’s like to be a little person who is still developing their fine motor skills.
Sometimes we need reminding that we all make mistakes. We need to remember how God has compassion on us, so we can freely offer it to our children. I’ve come to be thankful for the times it’s me that breaks a dish or spills the milk, because it’s a chance to remind my kids that accidents happen, even to adults. And sometimes the person who most needs that reminder, is me. I needed my daughter to show me how it feels to have someone deal harshly with you. That little role-reversal moment helped me give my daughter more grace, just the way God gives it to me.