To every parent who’s ever wished their kids could be perfect, could be more like they wanted or more like their friend’s kids: the perfect kid does not exist. But a happy kid does.
Growing up, it was easy to convince other parents that I was the perfect kid. I got good grades, was courteous, and had gotten my “you can trust me” smile down to a tee. Parents consistently told me they wanted their kids to be more like me (which, by the way, please never do that, it’s ridiculously harmful and causes resentment between the kids). It was a running joke among my friends that I was their parent’s “favorite”. My senior superlative? Best to take home to your parents, even though I had never had a boyfriend.
I used to take pride in the label of convincing adults I was perfect, but now when I get those type of comments I give them an awkward smile and try to turn the conversation back to their own kids. I’m so far from perfect; I’m well-rounded at best. But, that’s not my own doing; it’s that of my parents. Every kid has their own inclinations, of course, but it’s up to the parents to let them follow those leads. My parents never once compared me to my peers, never inquired as to why I couldn’t be more like them. They built me up based on the things I was good at. They listened to my opinions, valuing it as they would that of a fellow adult. They allowed me to follow my crazy ambitions, teaching my how to use Microsoft Word when I wanted to start a magazine when I was 8. And good thing they did, because here I am, working toward my journalism degree and writing for three different publications.
A story that has really stuck with me about this topic is something that happened to me over fall break. I went back home and got my hair done with the same hairstylist I’ve had sine I was in the 6th grade. As I was sitting there, getting my hair dyed purple with my mom’s money and support, a woman walked in with her teenage daughter. The woman kept touching the girl’s hair, gesturing intensely and detailing what her daughter “wanted” done. It made me uncomfortable enough that she was speaking for her daughter, but then as the daughter was being led away to get her hair washed, the mom shouted out, “Don’t listen to her, I know what she wants!”
This was a scene similar to ones I had seen multiple times growing up, but not something my parents had ever done to me. When I was 12 I was convinced that cutting my hair really short was a great idea; my mom knew it wasn’t (she ended up being right, as she usually was), but she let me do it anyway. In this small act, she gave me the two most important things you can give a child-independence and the realization that their voice matters.
You can’t have the “perfect” child, they simply don’t exist, because perfection is only something parents can try to make happen, not something that can genuinely be found. But you won’t even have a happy child if you don’t give them a chance.
