Mother Doesn't Know Best

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Mother Doesn't Know Best

As a little girl, I was sure that a good parent would allow me to eat all the cookies in the cookie jar or buy me toys at Toys R Us. When I got a little older, I figured that a good parent would let me stay up past ten o'clock on school nights. Then I became a teenager and I felt that a good parent would buy me a car and let me be independent.

According to these definitions of a "good parent," my parents always fell short. It wasn't until I became a parent that I began to understand what a good parent really is. My two-year old daughter taught me this lesson in her simple childlike manner.

Having church at eleven o'clock is difficult for our family. Church time is play time, followed by lunch, and ending with naps. Needless to say, we always struggle during that first hour before we can deposit both Jenny Beth and Juliana into the nursery for the remaining two hours. I admit, it's crazy to expect a one-year-old and a two-year-old to sit quietly through an hour of inspirational talks that they consider boring. Nevertheless, we attend church as a family. This particular Sunday was no different.

"Mommy, look! Taylor! Taylor!" Jenny Beth said excitedly to me during the church service. She wasn't using her whispering church voice as we had rehearsed on several occasions. Needless to say, I was a bit exasperated and embarrassed. Besides, I knew that Scott and Joy Rowe, Taylor's parents, were sitting a few rows over. I had seen them enter and sit down. Their one-year-old daughter, Taylor, was in Scott's arms. I had even discreetly waved to them.

Hastily, I rummaged through the diaper bag and retrieved two tattered and torn books that were well-loved and well-gnawed by my two daughters. These were...

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...t only believes in her children but believes them as well. A good parent can admit when she's wrong and acknowledge when her children are right. A good parent says, "I'm sorry."

After church was over, I went to Jenny, my smart two-year old, and hugged her. I told her that I was sorry and asked for her forgiveness. She hugged me back and kissed my lips. She had completely forgotten what she was mad about only moments earlier. Accustomed to being told to say "Sorry," she misunderstood my apology and said, "Horry(sorry), Mommy." My eyes filled with tears. She was so merciful.

"Let's go nursery, Mommy!" she said with anticipation. I felt like a good parent again.

I was still the mother that day; however, I played another role, as well. I was a student in my daughter's classroom. She taught me a valuable lesson about parenthood. Mother does not always know best.

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