The true definition of victory...

My son has many strengths, and they will no doubt propel him to many successes in his life. Patience, however, is not one of them. Especially patience for food when he’s really hungry. It’s like the waiting tortures him, the poor kid. His bottom lip protrudes and his whole face turns bright red. Tomato red, actually. Big alligator tears start to fall and his body goes limp. It probably would be funny if it weren’t my job to manage it in public. We have been working with him, attempting to teach him to wait. Maintain his frustration. Avoid emotional explosions.

 He loves Pizza. Ok, most people love pizza. But he REALLY loves it. He loves his food, but pizza is at the top of the list. No question.

 So we went to a birthday party at one of those cool jump places. I love those places. Huge inflatable structures to jump on, stairs to climb up and slides to slide down. How cool is that? Playtime was followed by a pizza lunch and cake. As we were entering the lunch/party room, the attendant informed us that pizza was already on the table, but the kids should wait to eat until we sang to the birthday girl.

 Oh crap. This was not going to go down peacefully.

 I took a deep breath and we entered. It’s fair to say that I entered with trepidation. My kids spotted the pizza and squealed with glee. They climbed up into their seats. My son reached for his food but I held his hand back gently. He yelled, objecting. I quietly explained to both my kids that we needed to wait for the birthday girl. My daughter acknowledged my words and waited, albeit reluctantly. My son… well… he needed to be asked again.  Bottom lip began to protrude and the red crept into his face. I took a deep breath. He started to cry. That little cry that leaves you with no doubt, this was only the beginning.

 I picked him up, hugged him, and felt his little body trembling. The big cry never came. At first I was shocked. And that was when it hit me. He was trying to control himself. He got it. He knew what we wanted from him and he was trying like hell to deliver it. His little body shook and his lips trembled. His big blue eyes filled up with tears and gazed at me pleading. He was asking me for help.

 And that was when my heart broke.

 We have all struggled with something that we could not quite control. Situations that invoke intense emotions despite our best efforts to hold them all back. As a middle school teacher I would often quietly ask a student if he/she wanted to go to the bathroom when I could see they were about to cry and were afraid to talk, lest they accidentally break their stoic façade. . They would escape gratefully ever time. I don’t know about you, but I hate crying in public. The feeling is bad enough without witnesses.  An audience is like adding insult to injury.

 And so, as I held my darling little son, I kissed his cheek and I rubbed his back. I assured him that I knew he was trying so hard to be patient and that he was such a good boy. I told him that I was proud of him, so proud of him. I told him that I loved him, so much. His eyes met mine and he knew. I swear he knew.

 We sang happy birthday and he got to eat his pizza. He consumed it with pride and was a model child for the remainder of the party. I think, in the grand scheme of things, that we are going to chalk this one up to a victory. He’s still such a little boy and his progress today was noteworthy.

 Oh, and to the mom of the birthday girl. The one who noticed the scene and sped up the process of singing Happy Birthday to ease my stress.  The one who made the needs of my son a priority despite the fact that the day was about her daughter. Thank you. Your willingness to help did not go unnoticed.