We took the girls to Williams for the Polar Express. If you live in Las Vegas or Phoenix, this is a must-do activity if you have children under the age ~9.
This was Ivy’s third time and Sage’s second time. This trip was for Ivy’s fifth birthday.
We came into Williams on a Friday. We arrived at the hotel 30 minutes before we were able to check in. So we hung out in the hotel lobby, walking around, writing to Santa, and drinking hot chocolate. We got into our room around 3:00pm, got settled, and started thinking about dinner.
We went to a restaurant in town then visited the shops. The girls did an awesome job and had a lot of fun.
We got back to the hotel around 6:15pm.
Ivy and Sage were setup together on the pull out couch. We put on Bluey and let them watch.
I’ll recap the next four hours in one word: chaos.
I don’t want to give all the details. Just know things were not going well. Bedtime is hard.
Things culminated in me doing something I regretted to Sage. Afterwards, she was lying down on the bed, stoic, sad, unmoving.
This balance being a dad who is loving, patient, caring, kind, and understanding but also enforcing rules and having a strict expectation for behavior is the most difficult thing to balance.
I tried to apologize to Sage. I tried to comfort her and tell her I loved her and she was nonresponsive. That is very unlike Sage.
I proceeded to get a bottle for Wren who was crying.
Amidst balancing Wren and heating a bottle in the bathroom I heard noise in the hotel room and returned to find Ivy bouncing up and down on the bed, inches from Sage’s head. It was 11pm.
I lost it.
I smacked the bed and told her to lie down. I smacked the bed two more times to make sure my point got across. It was loud. Ivy cowered. Ivy cried. I think I woke up Sage.
I started lecturing Ivy about how she was getting too old for such behavior and she needed to do better. Ivy was crying and saying I owed her an apology over and over. I told Ivy I did not owe her an apology. I looked at Sage, who was now sitting up, and said, “I owe Sage an apology.” Sage gave me a small smile.
Those moments are so crazy. Why can’t we all be like this?
“Become as little children” (Matthew 18:3).
Moments ago she couldn’t look at me. Now she was smiling at me, the cutest, sweetest, most innocent and loving smile.
I came back to Ivy.
I started to tell her that we had all not been doing a great job lately. I told her I could be better, Mom could be better, Sage could be better, Wren could be better, and Ivy could be better. I told Ivy that she was my big girl and she had to do better. I then told Ivy she wasn’t perfect. I started to explain that I didn’t expect her to be perfect. I just expected her to do her best. Before I could elaborate, she latched onto that statement that she wasn’t perfect. She started repeating over and over, replacing “you owe me an apology” with “I am perfect.”
I spoke very intentionally and clearly to Ivy. I reiterated that she wasn’t perfect. She got more upset. But then I told her, “I AM NOT PERFECT.” This made her pause. I told her I was not perfect and I made many mistakes. I told her I wanted to be a good dad and sometimes it was really hard. I told her we all needed to do better. I started to cry.
I was sitting on the bed near Ivy. Ivy came out from behind her covers and knelt beside me. She wrapped her arms around me, hugged me tight, and said something I hope I never forget.
She said, “Dad, you are perfect. You’re the best daddy in the whole world.”
This took my crying to sob levels. Ivy started to cry. But not like she had been, not 5-year-old tantrum or normal crying. She was really crying. She hugged my neck and held onto me and she cried on my shoulder.
I looked Ivy in the eyes and I told her thank you for what she said.
She looked back at me and told me she loved me.
How do we deserve these children?
I talked more to Ivy about how we all needed to be better and that tomorrow I was going to try to be perfect. She said she was going to be perfect too.
We went to bed. After all that, as if exhausted from a prize fight, all the girls immediately went to bed.
The next morning they all woke up like we didn’t just go 10 rounds the night before.
Children are amazing. Children are special.
Sage immediately came and started bouncing on me first thing in the morning.
Throughout that whole day, Ivy did so good. She was kind to her sisters. She was patient, helpful, and mature. She helped her cousins. She was nearly perfect. Throughout the day she would ask me, “Dad, am I being perfect?”
Yes, I told her. She was.
I’ve thought a lot about that night since. Do I regret losing my cool? I don’t know. As parents, we want to be awesome, patient, kind all the time. But sometimes, I think a child needs to see you hit a bed. Sometimes kids need to see that we get angry as parents too.
Would I have had that special moment with Ivy if she hadn’t seen me lose my cool? Would she have had the desire to be “perfect” the next day?
After losing my cool, it was extra important to be calm and show them extra love (D&C 121:43). This parenting thing is difficult. I’m trying every day to be “perfect.” I’m falling short every day. But I’m grateful for the example of these children. How quickly they forgive, move on, love so willingly and so openly. I hope I can be more like them.
Except during bedtime.
No Coincidences 