A Friend Asks What My Kids Have Learned from Me

By Molly Flinkman

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It’s after dinner on a perfect fall night, and the kids and I are on a walk around the block.

We make a rectangle on this particular path, starting northbound on the bike trail that runs next to our house. Eventually, we turn east, and it’s my son who notices the trees first.

“Mom! Look at the trees!” he shouts. The tips of the trees are illuminated by the setting sun behind us. The light is bright in a way that startles us; it stops us in our tracks. We stand there for a few moments, just looking.

“I like the golden hour,” my son says.

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It is a regular weekday afternoon and one of our boys is needling one of our girls.

I listen from the other room; I like to see if they can work it out on their own first. These sibling squabbles feel like an almost constant presence in our day-to-day lives. Someone is always trying to annoy someone else, and it’s exhausting to try to intervene every single time.

My son pushes my daughter a bit too far, and she snaps. I’m not exactly sure what happens because I can’t see, but he starts crying. She must have done something to hurt him.

She is quick on the reply: “Sorry!” she says, without hesitation. “I”m really sorry. I overreacted, and I shouldn’t have done that.”