[2022-04-29] Respecting children
I took Freddie out for a little walk this evening. As I emerged from my house, a gaggle of children was passing by.
As I walked down the street, I draped Freddie's leash over his back, as I often do. He doesn't go very fast.
One of the boys from the gaggle approached Freddie, picked up his leash and started walking with him. Even though the boy hadn't asked permission, I didn't say anything. Freddie is somewhat of a street mascot, known by name by many of the children in our neighbourhood. I knew that neither the boy nor Freddie would get too far ahead of me.
At one point, the boy's sister asked her brother to let her walk Freddie. The boy handed the leash to his sister and ran off to rejoin the gaggle. The sister proceeded to walk Freddie, with me following closely behind. Seeing a pattern emerging, I felt obligated to share a little advice with the girl since not all dogs she might meet are as easygoing as Freddie.
"You know," I said to the girl, "you should ask the owner whether it's OK to walk their dog." She smiled self-consciously and asked if she could walk Freddie. I grinned and nodded.
Soon the girl's younger brother asked her to let him have a turn walking Freddie. "You have to ask the owner," the girl said, looking at me. I smiled, happy that the girl had learned from our previous exchange. The little boy asked permission and when I granted it, the girl gave her brother the leash and disappeared like her older brother had done.
The young boy held much greater interest in Freddie than his siblings had, walking with us down the length of the path that runs behind our houses.
As we walked, I struck up a conversation with the young boy. I asked his name (Jaad) and shared mine. I asked his age (5). I asked where he went to school (he didn't know, despite my naming all the elementary schools in our neighbourhood). I asked whether he had any siblings (a brother and a sister). I asked his favourite thing to do (colour), which led to a question about his favourite colour (blue and red). I asked his favourite holiday (Christmas) and why (presents).
"Who gives you presents?" I asked.
"Santa," he replied.
"What does Santa look like?"
"Red shirt, white mustache, red hat."
"Very good. And what does Santa wear on his feet?"
"Christmas shoes."
"Oh, I thought Santa wore black books, but maybe he does wear Christmas shoes."
Though I found the little boy's answer about Christmas shoes funny and our entire conversation amusing, I never laughed. I've always tried to talk to children as equals, to let them know that I see and hear them, that I respect them and that they matter.
It reminded me of a poem I read recently by L.R. Knost, who shares peaceful parenting resources on Instagram:
I wanted you to know joy,
so I laughed with you.
I wanted you to feel safe,
so I was there for you.
I wanted you to accept others as they are,
so I accepted you as you are.
I wanted you to be unashamed of your tears,
so I didn't hide mine.
I wanted you to be brave,
so I let you see me conquer my fears.
I wanted your heart to be tender,
so I treated it with care.
I wanted you to follow your dreams,
so I let you see me follow mine.
I wanted you to be compassionate,
so I showed you kindness.
I wanted you to be generous,
so I freely shared all I had with you.
I wanted you to live in peace with others,
so I lived in peace with you.
I wanted you to become who you were meant to be,
so I gave you wings and set you free.
From my experience tonight with the little boy and his siblings, I would add: I wanted you to be respectful, so I showed you respect.
