"I wonder if..." - Gently working his way in, my young elder begins his thought. Well played, my son, I silently applaud, hoping he learned that technique from me. My applause ends quickly, though, as I realize that, although I'd like it to be, gentle tact is typically not my style. I'm a bull-by-the-horns kind of girl. Maybe I should work on that. Perhaps it'll be the subject of his next letter.
"Things happen for a reason... There is always something to be learned." Wait a minute. Stop the presses. Is that...? Could it be...? Why yes, I think those are... MY WORDS! Or at least a derivative of them. "Look for the lesson," that's what I've told my kids since they were in diapers. Okay, maybe not diapers, but at least on training wheels. Pretty much the same thing, though... right?
They're good words. I give him a nod of approval before realizing what he really just said. Translation: "Dad (and mom), you are now the student and I am the teacher."
It's a testimony of experience. Lessons quickly learned. Maturity ever building. He's on the right path, and for that I am proud.
Humbled by his growth, I take a personal inventory. Perhaps I better start preparing myself now. I have a hunch that sooner or later more of my words will come back to bite me. Or teach me, as will more likely be the case.
"Dear mom," the letter will probably say, "take a step back and tell me what's wrong with this picture."
(Oh, heaven help me when that day comes! Hopefully I can come up with something better than some juvenile snarky reply... but then again... *shrug*)