My dad is the meticulous talker. As a teenager it drove me crazy. But he built the best foundation for me as a kid. He was the affirmer. The patient explainer. The repeater.
Today he is the one that can communicate with my english speaking husband the most. He has a knack for knowing what you already know and use previous knowledge to build new conversations on. He is perfect with kids. His boundaries are firm, but his words are clear, gentle, memorable. To this day I remember his teachings click. He may have repeated the same things many times, but one day they clicked. And he had the patience to repeat the “no”, the “yes” and the “why” with the same faith as if this time I will get it.
When kids seem to have a lost look as they listen, actually deep inside there the wheels are turning. I was a processor. I could read and understand people better than they ever gave me credit. When my time came I just sprung.
A young mom told me a funny story. A whole year the routine of getting out of the house to go to kindergarten, the kid would kick and scream, while the mom pusher her out the door and the dad pulled her like a sack of potatoes. She was fine by the time they got to the car, but the show was terrible in the process. As the new year was afoot, and the mom already had knots in her stomach thinking about the “exiting show” her daughter asks her with giddiness:
– “are we going to play the same game this year?”
– “which game?”
– “the one where I kick and scream and you drag me out of the house?”
– “what?” [jaw dropping]
– “that’s how I show you that I love you and I’m going to miss you!”
We learned a key phrase to tell jaclyn, that has saved us much grief. “you don’t have to cry.” More often than not, she would stop whining and ask with a complete composed look: “I don’t?” and we would explain to her what’s what. At kindergarten, when the new kids would cry after their mommies, Jackie looked at me and asked: “I don’t need to cry too? Ah, ok! See you later!”