words as sweet as honey

"Life is a flower of which love is the honey."

(Victor Hugo)


The little girl at the doctor's office waited patiently for her mother to fill out the insurance forms for a good thirty minutes, then became restless. With her bouncy little curls in short pigtails and a sweet vintage dress, the tiny girl reminded me of my own daughter at two. The mother spoke sweetly to her and gave her a few goldfish crackers to tide her over. Meanwhile, the father spoke to the daughter in a gentle voice. "All right, sweetheart, Mommy's almost done."

The tone was gentle and warm. It lacked the condescending syrupy tones that most adults use for children, the one used in most t.v. shows. And it lacked the cooler, wearier tone of parents of older children. They both spoke so kindly but firmly that it really made me think about myself lately.

How do I speak to my children? What tone do I use? Does my voice lack that same marveling gentleness that new parents have? Does it have that tired I've-repeated-this-a-thousand-times tone? At what point did I start sounding rougher and less gentle?

Granted, the little girl in the doctor's office can't sass anyone, can't roll her eyes, can't contradict her parents yet. So maybe it's just easier to use dulcet tones for little ones. But as I sat there, listening to the conversation, I wondered if maybe the older children, ones who can get smart-mouthed and irritable, are ones who need to hear calmer, loving voices. Not fake sugar. Not falseness. But true kindness in a tone. Everyone treats you sweetly and kindly when you're two years old. How many people treat 9-year-olds and 7-year-olds with the same patience and gentleness?

Inspired
This morning, as I worked at my home desk, the two boys wandered in. Miguel had some handwriting practice to do; Sebastian wanted to do work, too. I told them it's OK to be in the room when I work---as long as I don't have a meeting and they are quiet.

Sebastian, however, was having a hard time settling down. He was being too loud and yet didn't want to go play in another room. He wanted to be with Miguel and me. "Me work! Me want to do work!" Instead of getting upset, I thought I'd try to make the room seem calmer and more relaxed. Maybe, I thought, if I imitate what I want, then I'll get it.

I put on a calming Mozart CD, told him softly that I had some work to do, gave him a sticky note pad and pencil. Then I turned and kept working quietly at the computer. His older brother did the same. And then Sebastian got the point.

As I edited, Sebastian scribbled a little then quietly asked Miguel to spell his name. Miguel, in soft library tones, explained the letters to him then returned to his work. It was a truly sweet hour.

The couple at the obstetrician's office don't know it, but the sweetness of their doctor's visit not only made their daughter's morning a good one ... but it reminded this complete stranger to carry that gentle attitude toward her own children as well.

Thank you for the reminder.