We Choose.

Originally posted September 30, 2013

Many months ago I bought on old wooden footstool at a tiny antique store.  It was outside, looked ancient, and was mine for $10.  It lived in our living room for a month or so before I was home alone with a can of silver spray paint.

Once (barely) dry, I brought it upstairs.  It needed something, and since I'm wont to write love notes and helpful reminders on my house, I thought I'd carry the theme through and write a little something on the furniture.  I pulled out a Sharpie.  

:::

The other day, Osiah, my three-year-old, asked me to read the footstool to him.  I didn't want to read the whole thing, worried that the things "we choose" would seem like a sham; I didn't want my potential failures reflected back so early in the morning. 

But I read it.  We choose kindness.  We choose good coffee, good food, and good company.  We choose silly.  We choose 'I can'.  We choose capable.  We choose love.  We choose really, really good music.  We choose how we react.  

A few minutes later, after one and then two and then three stories, he wasn't ready for me to rev up the vacuum.  He dumped puzzle pieces all over the place.  Lots of them.  And then threw the box on the floor.  He was not, he assured me, going to pick up today.  I knelt beside him and gave a contemplative smile.  I took a deep breath and remembered the words I'd just read, the words he'd prodded me to remember.  "We choose how we react." 

I knew in that instant that I was either going to have Day A: resistance, deep sighs, frustration, and tears, or I was going to have Day B: mutual respect, ease, laughter, and smiles.  

I had one second to choose.  

"Osi, I'm choosing to have a good day today."  I began to pick up the pieces.  He studied me for a moment and then started to help.

I vacuumed for two hours while he danced, drew, and jumped around.  We chatted and laughed and hugged intermittently.  We went for a walk, played football, and loaded the dishwasher. 

It was, very possibly, the nicest day I've ever had with my son. 

Because on that day, together, we were able to make a choice. 

*E