My kid struggled with Halloween this year. He’s at that age where he’s super self-conscious, and part of him wondered if he should give up dressing up altogether. But instead of throwing out the baby with the bath water, we put together a witty homemade costume and called it “done.”
Or so I thought.
Halloween morning arrived, and as he came out for breakfast, he still looked a little blue. “I guess we’re not decorating much this year.” he sulked.
I’ll be honest, I got defensive. I had half a mind to tell him to decorate the house himself, but instead, I buttered his toast (no metaphor intended).
“Sweetie, maybe it doesn’t feel like much, but we still did a lot, and after school, we could add some more if you like.”
“I guess,” he mumbled.
We ate breakfast under a cloud and after he left for school, I started to wrack my brain for something anything I could do to soothe his disappointment.
But in my scramble to pull out anything that could pass as Halloween themed, I stopped.
There are times when I can be in such a rush to “save” my kids from disappointment that I forget the value of it.
I thought of all the times I’d been disappointed, as a child and as an adult, and while I don’t wish that feeling on anyone, it has been instrumental in my ability to bounce back when I get knocked down.
Halloween decorations weren’t up to snuff this year and that made him feel down. But the truth is, I’d prefer he cut his teeth on this kind of disappointment, with me there to coach him through, then wait for a bigger more traumatizing type of disappointment after he’s left home.
So I stopped rummaging through boxes. I stopped searching Pinterest for last-minute homemade decorations, and instead, I considered how to support him through his disappointment without feeling compelled to fix it.
Sure enough, he got home and he rummaged through the Halloween box. He found some old caution tape and covered our windows. We put our jack-o-lanterns on the steps and he added batteries to the ghost light string. Once it was all set up, he stood back and smiled.
“Not too bad after all,” he said.
I had to smile too. Not only did the decorations look great, but he’d just aced a master class in recovering from disappointment and taking responsibility for his feelings.
I’ll be honest, I was proud of him, and also a little proud of myself too. As a mom, I can feel compelled to fix or do for my kids what they are perfectly capable of doing themselves. But this one time I was able to hold back, and because of that, my son felt a sense of accomplishment that was made all the sweeter because it came from disappointment.
More holidays loom on the horizon and decorations may be sub-par, but at least now I know, and my son knows, that we’ll be able to handle it.
I still have a long way to go before I can feel like I’ve fully prepared my kids for future disappointments, but this Halloween was a step in the right direction. At the end of the day, we all get disappointed from time to time. That’s inevitable.
The thing we do have control over is our relationship with it. With enough time and experience, we can begin to recognize the transformation that’s waiting on the other side. It’s scary, but it’s also exciting.
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