Sticks and Stones
The kids and I were driving in the car and Elias and Lena were having the following conversation:
Lena: "Eli, are you a stupidhead?"
Elias: "No Lena, that's not nice, I'm not a stupidhead."
Lena: "No, you're not a stupidhead, that's not nice. Eli, is Baby Vincent a stupidhead?"
Elias: "No Lena, that's not nice, Baby Vincent's not a stupidhead."
Lena: "No, he's not a stupidhead, that's not nice. Eli, is Miss Suzy a stupidhead?"
Elias: "No Lena, Miss Suzy's not a stupidhead."
Lena: "No, Miss Suzy's not a stupidhead! That's not nice. Eli, is Mommy a stupidhead?"
Eli: "Uhhmm. I think mommy's a stupidhead."
Lena: (after a surprised and perhaps disappointed pause) "Oh."
Tamara: "Hey! I'm not a stupidhead!"
And then I composed myself and advised them as to why stupidhead is not a nice word (which they clearly displayed a perfect knowledge of just seconds before). I also pointed out why I, their mother who cares for them, am not a stupidhead.
The immediacy and fervor with which I responded really surprised me. It kind of hurt my feelings, actually.
What? I'm NOT a stupidhead. Well, I'm not.
My parents and grandparent counseled me often as to the virtues of "Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me." It occurs to me now that they were required to give me that advice often because I got made fun of a lot. I was a weird kid. Or at least I felt that way.
As far as sticks and stones go, my God, could anything be further from the truth? I think I might actually believe that there is nothing more powerful than words. Nothing.
My earliest and most significant memories revolve around words: What people said to me and how they said it. Words, other people's as well as my own, have shaped my perception of myself, maybe my perception of the world.
A brief silence followed my defensive little outburst, and the kids went on to debate which one of them was in actuality, Superman. I started thinking about how I responded to them and naturally, about sticks and stones. It was no doubt brought on by some internal defense mechanism. "No need for hurt feelings," I told myself. "They're just words. And everyone knows my babies love me to the point of absurdity. They're just little kids. They didn't mean it. Blah blah blah..."
I almost told them about sticks and stones and all that. But I stopped myself. I did not give them the Sticks and Stones speech. And I won't. I'm going to teach them opposite.
I think I'd like to teach them that what they say, out loud and on paper, is important, that it should be thought on very carefully, and in most cases, can't be taken back. There have been times when Eli or Lena has brought the other to the point of tears with words. Usually, it's been innocent (or completely ridiculous). But their reactions are SO emotional. For whatever reason, their feelings are really hurt.
They have actually both bawled in rage, one to the other about who's invited to the other's birthday party. Elias was nearly inconsolable when his best little buddy told him he didn't want to play with him. Lena was devastated once when Eli told her that Baby Vincent wasn't her cousin.
Sticks and stones get us in our flesh and bones, but our bodies can heal in ways that our feelings can't. Words inflict pain that can last a lifetime or never heal. As far as I'm concerned, sticks and stones are a cakewalk in comparison.
Lena: "Eli, are you a stupidhead?"
Elias: "No Lena, that's not nice, I'm not a stupidhead."
Lena: "No, you're not a stupidhead, that's not nice. Eli, is Baby Vincent a stupidhead?"
Elias: "No Lena, that's not nice, Baby Vincent's not a stupidhead."
Lena: "No, he's not a stupidhead, that's not nice. Eli, is Miss Suzy a stupidhead?"
Elias: "No Lena, Miss Suzy's not a stupidhead."
Lena: "No, Miss Suzy's not a stupidhead! That's not nice. Eli, is Mommy a stupidhead?"
Eli: "Uhhmm. I think mommy's a stupidhead."
Lena: (after a surprised and perhaps disappointed pause) "Oh."
Tamara: "Hey! I'm not a stupidhead!"
And then I composed myself and advised them as to why stupidhead is not a nice word (which they clearly displayed a perfect knowledge of just seconds before). I also pointed out why I, their mother who cares for them, am not a stupidhead.
The immediacy and fervor with which I responded really surprised me. It kind of hurt my feelings, actually.
What? I'm NOT a stupidhead. Well, I'm not.
My parents and grandparent counseled me often as to the virtues of "Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me." It occurs to me now that they were required to give me that advice often because I got made fun of a lot. I was a weird kid. Or at least I felt that way.
As far as sticks and stones go, my God, could anything be further from the truth? I think I might actually believe that there is nothing more powerful than words. Nothing.
My earliest and most significant memories revolve around words: What people said to me and how they said it. Words, other people's as well as my own, have shaped my perception of myself, maybe my perception of the world.
A brief silence followed my defensive little outburst, and the kids went on to debate which one of them was in actuality, Superman. I started thinking about how I responded to them and naturally, about sticks and stones. It was no doubt brought on by some internal defense mechanism. "No need for hurt feelings," I told myself. "They're just words. And everyone knows my babies love me to the point of absurdity. They're just little kids. They didn't mean it. Blah blah blah..."
I almost told them about sticks and stones and all that. But I stopped myself. I did not give them the Sticks and Stones speech. And I won't. I'm going to teach them opposite.
I think I'd like to teach them that what they say, out loud and on paper, is important, that it should be thought on very carefully, and in most cases, can't be taken back. There have been times when Eli or Lena has brought the other to the point of tears with words. Usually, it's been innocent (or completely ridiculous). But their reactions are SO emotional. For whatever reason, their feelings are really hurt.
They have actually both bawled in rage, one to the other about who's invited to the other's birthday party. Elias was nearly inconsolable when his best little buddy told him he didn't want to play with him. Lena was devastated once when Eli told her that Baby Vincent wasn't her cousin.
Sticks and stones get us in our flesh and bones, but our bodies can heal in ways that our feelings can't. Words inflict pain that can last a lifetime or never heal. As far as I'm concerned, sticks and stones are a cakewalk in comparison.
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