I’ve really been attempting to lighten up some of the past few weeks. Some of my standards are impossibly high. I’m an idealist. I’m aware of it. And sometimes I hold my standards more closely than I ought. I’ve been fighting against pharisaical behavior—adding in “ought to’s” and assigning virtue to things that have absolutely no moral swayings.
So this week the “lightening up” process has been computer games. Our near 2nd grader has never clicked a mouse on a computer before. In his entire life, he’s played maybe 20 minutes of an educational iPad game before I deleted it, because it was frankly worthless. But as I evaluated this next school year, I want my child to begin to be familiar with typing and technology. So I talked to my husband about loosening the reigns.
Michael’s parents had graciously given us two old laptops last year when I thought I was ready to allow Million to begin. But I wasn’t ready at the time, and Michael was going to France, and we were adopting, and things were just up in the air. Now I’m ready.
So this week, Michael and I decided it was time to order some parts to enhance the functionality of the two laptops. Michael set up the laptops so Million can’t access the internet or really do anything except for click certain desktop icons that lead him into software programs that I’ve preselected.
Today, Million played 20 minutes of a typing instruction game.
I was feeling pretty good about how loosely I was holding onto this whole “my kid is interacting with technology” issue this morning when I went grocery shopping. So proud of myself, that I thought to myself, “Hey! The kids have never experienced processed cheese nachos before. They’ve never tasted the Velveeta devilish mess. What would it hurt them to experience this quintessential American stuff before we leave the country? Can I loosen the grip on yet another standard? Would it hurt that badly?”
So that made its way into the grocery cart.
After nachos for supper, I remembered why my kids have never experienced it before.
It hurts. Badly.
That is the result of lightening up in life. All you get is a WHOLE lot of heartburn.
Of course, tonight’s Wednesday night, and my oldest child is particularly diligent about requesting prayer for any perceived maladies that I have. He’s prayed for my hiccups. He’s told his teachers that I’ve been sick when he heard me clearing my throat. So I’m basically 103% sure that tonight, every single child in his class is going to be praying for the heartburn that his mother acquired by trying to loosen up in life a little bit.
Lord bless me.