Childhood Traumas

My friend Rixie did a great post recently about why she does not wear lipstick.

She asked the question what traumas we mothers had unknowingly inflicted upon our children.

Boy, do I ever have a doozie!

When Mr. Marvelous Jr. was a very little guy the movie Lion King came out.  We took his best friend to the theater and watched it up on the big screen.  I hustled them out for popcorn at the crucial moment (they were only 4 at the time).

Lion King became the overwhelming passion at our house.  We had a stuffed Simba (and still do), a Lion King plastic glass from Burger King (and still do).  We had Simba this and Mufasa that and every Happy Meal at every fast-food joint had LION KING toys.  That birthday and Christmas were all about the Lion King toys.  One of his favorites was a little Pride Rock that opened up and had the characters stowed away inside that could be placed in appropriate places around the Pride Rock.  The house was filled with Lion King toys and music.

One day, little Junior came out of his room, walked over to me, looked me in the eye and asked, "Mommy, what's pride?".  Oh joy, a teachable moment!!  I don't think I pulled the Westminster Confession and Larger (or even Shorter) Catechisms off the shelf, but I dove into the theological nuances and Biblical references of that sin.  Throughout the discourse (which seemed brief to me and overly long to certain other folks in the house), his little eyes got bigger and bigger.  The understanding of the seriousness of the sin seemed to be settling in to his little heart.  I could see that my vast wisdom and insightful instruction were paying off.  I was overjoyed!  I was doing my job!  And doing it really, really well, I might add.

As I wrapped up (can you see where this is going?  because I couldn't at the time), I utilized that strategy that we professional teachers and mothers know to use because We Have A College Degree In Education.  I asked him if he understood and if he had any questions. 

"Oh.  So Pride Rock is bad?" he asked, with tears in his eyes. 

And he never played with that little set again.