OK, listen up my sweet grandkids, and I’ll tell you a tale about the summer after 3rd grade.
My Mom and Granda were out of the house for some reason and I had an hour or two to waste. There was always something to do, but I decided to play in my Granda’s bedroom. You will notice I use the word Granda instead of Grandad or Grandfather, and that is because my Mom’s family came to the USA from England after WW1, and that is the British version of what I called my Mom’s dad.
His bedroom was not a big room, but it had lots of things to look at and explore. Some of those wonders were not age appropriate, and none of my business to explore. But, my Granda loved me so very much and if I really wanted something (like comic books or a BB gun), he would consider the request. So, in my younger version brain, I didn’t even consider that I was about to get in big trouble.
Suddenly, I really had a brilliant idea! Of the many treasures in his room, there was a magnificent pinto pony rug. As I can recall, it was lighter colored with caramel colored spots. I knew he enjoyed having that rug next to his bed. My idea — I would make it even more beautiful. I would give the spots a haircut! And so I got some scissors and began trimming the hairs off one of the spots. I worked carefully for maybe half an hour, and then stood back to examine my handy work.
I began to have doubts. This was not what I had expected.
My Mom came home and tracked me down. At the door, she wanted to know what I was doing. I mumbled something about making the rug more beautiful. She told me I was going to have to tell my Granda that I was extremely sorry. The full force of what I had done came crashing down on me.
I WASN’T MAKING IT BEAUTIFUL. I WOULD MAKE MY GRANDA SAD AND ANGRY. HE WOULD BE SO UNHAPPY WITH ME (AS WELL AS MY MOM). I HAD RUINED A VALUED AND HANDSOME RUG. I WAS NOT BRILLIANT. I WAS ASHAMED AND I WOULD HAVE TO SAY I WAS SORRY.
The truth was (and still is), that it is very difficult for me to say I am sorry. It makes me feel stupid and so very little. Even when SORRY is what my whole body feels – from the top of my head to the tips of my toes. It makes me cry just thinking about it.
This is the remarkable part of this tale. My Granda came home; he did not show anger or say anything about the pinto pony rug. He waited for me to face up. He was normal and rested in his room. It took me several hours of agony and thinking and being in my room, before I could gather the courage to come to the door of his bedroom. Then, very quickly, I squeaked I was sorry.
His words to me were simple, “Don’t do it again. Think first.”
My first point: BEING sorry is very important when you have made a bad choice. And, SAYING sorry is the next step, even though it may be hard.
My second point: Being creative and imaginative is great, but being impulsive and not considering others can hurt you and those you love. Think things through before you do.
My third point: Be grateful for the people in your life who love you, know your mistakes are not who you are, and tell it to you straight when you’ve made a bad choice.
My sweet kiddoes, I love you oodles… xoxo gramg