Monday, June 11, 2012

Escaping Mediocrity

Dear Avery,
I have been thinking a bit about what makes a person different or special and do I really want that for you.  This past weekend my friend Vivian and I took you and her daughter Natalie to see a show in the city called Freckleface.

Freckleface is a musical geared for kids that teaches the important lesson to celebrate all of our differences.  Of course, when we asked you girls what you had learned from the play you said 'how to tap dance' and 'how to dribble a basketball'.  Perhaps the show was meant for someone older than four years. But I digress.


Anyway, the real story that I wanted to relate to you was that you did something that probably every other child has done in some form or another at some point or another.  And the formula goes like this:


"Hey friend, I think you should see if this tiny object can fit inside your nose.  Do you want to try and see?"


This type of situation almost always involves tweezers and if you are very lucky will involve an emergency room and surgical vacuum as it did in the case of you, your friend Abby and the tiny object, a squishy, uber tiny Polly Pocket shoe.



In this case, do I wish you had been different and not a normal, run-of-the-mill everyday kid?  Absolutely!  Am I super happy that Abby was such a good patient and that her parents were so good natured?  Even more so!  And do I think that you learned your lesson?  This is where you turn from mediocrity and sameness into the Avery that can completely amaze me.  While you may not have thought through the consequences, you level of empathy was truly enormous.  And for that I am thankful.  I am also very sure that you will never put anything inside your nose (other than perhaps a finger), will never cut anyone's hair (we had that discussion as well since this seemed like a good teaching opportunity for appropriate behavior) and will never ever go out of your way to harm any other human being or living creature.


Avery, I am so very proud that you are you.
Love,
Mommy