Someone said my child was smart today.
I was speechless.
I didn't know what to say. I'm ashamed of what popped into my head.
I've bought into the "tell a kid they're smart and they won't work as hard" mentality. So I focus on "good try." Or "I'm proud you're working so hard on this."
But outside our little house... smart is still the word. I hadn't thought about the lack of it bothering me. Until I stood there, at a loss for words, because someone called my child smart.
A refreshing point of view, and yet, a dagger through my mother's soul. How do I view my own child? I can get so bogged down with the problems that I don't see what she can do. I focus so much on getting her to put two words together that I don't enjoy the way she says the one word unlike anyone else, or I don't appreciate how she signs please so often her sister thinks it's a sure way of getting a bite of what we're eating.
How to balance realism with hope, knowing what needs to be worked on with what can be celebrated? I haven't figured it out yet. Some days, I can think of little else. Others, I convince myself we're normal and everyone else is advanced. And who defines normal anyway?