A Sensitive Boy

He eagerly approached me from across the school blacktop, gingerly holding something in his hand with reverence.  "Look Mom,  it's a worm!  A true sign of spring!"  Sure enough, curled in his little palm was a soft, rosy earthworm, forced up from the soil by a recent rain shower.  We welcomed the creature with joy and talked for a moment about the warmth of the morning and how lucky we were to find this little fellow.  Connor showed the worm to a friend, who carefully examined him and shared in my son's admiration.  They even came up with a name for him, Squiggly.  The bell rang, so Connor quickly found a place off of the busiest part of the path, bid Squiggly goodbye and ran along into the building.
Another boy, seeing what Connor had done, ran straight to the spot, peered down at Squiggly and yelled, "Oh, gross! A worm!" and squashed it into the pavement.

Thank God Connor was already inside the building.
I'm not sure what I would have said to him otherwise.

"A sensitive boy."  This description was used to describe one of my sons, and I found it hard not to push back against it with umbrage.  "Yeah, and?!" I wanted to say.  Why is this a problem?  Why is it not okay for a boy (in KINDERGARTEN, for God's sake!!!) to sometimes cry when he is sad?
It seems to me, in light of recent news events, that we could USE a few more sensitive boys around here, who, if they don't have their sensitivity bullied/beaten/teased/shamed out of them, just might grow up to be sensitive men!

Wisconsin Rep. Don Pridemore, New Orleans Saints coach Sean Payton, and of course, George Zimmerman are just three examples from this week's news of particularly hideously behaved men.  Trying to explain to my 11, 8 and 6 year olds (who sometimes watch Sports Channel) what a "bounty system" is over breakfast made my stomach turn.  Yes, kids, rich and famous athletes you see on TV really were this mean, stupid and selfish.  Yes, they tried to hurt each other on purpose and get paid for it.  No, it wasn't an accident.  Yes, they kept it a secret and did not say they were sorry when they were caught.  They lied about it until they had to tell the truth.  Yes, grownups make very bad choices sometimes.  Yes, I know he was their coach.  Yes, he should have known better.  Much, much better.

Thankfully, none of them seem to know about poor Trayvon Martin yet, so I haven't been forced to discuss that tragic travesty with them.  Yet.

Here's the deal.  We cannot change the world with one wave of the wand. However, we can each work our own magic little spells and collectively send a tsunami of sensitive, caring children (read: love) into the universe.  Please, mamas (and of course, papas!), uncles and aunts, grandparents, friends, siblings, teachers and coaches, consider this: the next time you are faced with a child who is emotional, teary, frustrated, or hurt, remember the power and impact of your words and think carefully about what you say.  The difference between "Stop crying - you're not a baby" and "I see you are sad.  I am here and will listen when you are ready to talk" is huge.  It shapes a soul.

One of my proudest parenting moments ever happened this year.  I received an email from a mom who I hadn't met yet.  Her son had gotten hurt on the playground at school.  Apparently, Matthew came over to him, put his arm around his shoulders and waited by his side until the teacher arrived.  She was so touched that my little boy cared about her son in his moment of hurting and wanted me to know.

I consider myself incredibly blessed to have boys who are compassionate, caring people who have compassionate, caring friends.  When my heart breaks after reading appallingly violent and senseless news stories, I try to use that pain as inspiration and continue to encourage my sons to be open hearted, to forgive and yes, to be sensitive.  For I do not see it as a flaw.  I see it as hope.