We recently had the chance to attend a family celebration which included a fair number of children. The hosts were excellent, providing play space and fun activities and crafts for all of the kids, including a piñata. My children, ages five, three, and one, had never done a piñata. My five year old had a vague understanding of how the whole concept worked, but the other two were clueless.
When it came time to take some whacks, the younger children - the four and unders - were tentative and cautious with their attempts. My five year old got into the "swing" of things (pun intended), and made some decent hits. I can't recall who finally knocked the candy out of the decorated cardboard, but when the explosion occurred, the most hilarious thing happened. No one moved. Us parents had to encourage them, and guide them on how they should be picking up candy and putting it into their baggies. All of us adults had become so accustomed to the mad rush that happened on that moment of candy explosion, that we hadn't really considered that our kids might need some instruction - or at least permission - to act like animals, and greedily pile all of the candy they could get their hands on.
Somewhere in the midst of all of this, another party attendee who had grown up with many hardships, began making comments about how spoiled these kids are, and how ungrateful they were. From his perspective, it seemed like the kids were being picky about the candy that had fallen from the piñata, and that they were unimpressed and bored with the entire ordeal.
Now, as the parents, we knew the story was quite different. At least two of the four families in attendance severely limit the candy and refined sugar that our children consume. My three children have candy only on very special occasions, such as holidays or rewards for a major accomplishment. They also had never seen a real, live piñata in their lives. And lastly, they've been instructed to let others go first and to not be greedy, taking all of a good thing for themselves. They were likely perplexed, both by the variety of candy which they had never before seen, and the sudden encouragement to act in a way complete opposite to what we've been teaching them. To him, it was spoiled children. To us, it was children with healthy expectations, limited experience, and discipline.
As days and then weeks passed, the whole ordeal really stuck with me and gave me to pause. I was offended by the comments of this other party attendee. But I sort of couldn't blame him either. It was as though he couldn't see reality - he was literally incapable - because he was viewing it with the blinders of his own perspective and bias. He judged the kids' behavior from the worldview he had gained through hardship and experiences of scarcity. Then, I judged him for not being able to see my perspective, and for only jumping to such a condemning conclusion. We both needed to exercise some empathy.
Then it made me begin to question...how many times did I walk through life, judging people, even silently and mentally, from the box of my own worldview? The woman at the grocery store in a hoodie and pajamas in the afternoon. What if she was getting over a cold, just had a miscarriage, or had just finished a round of chemo, and had to run to the store but felt too miserable to put on "proper" clothes? Then there was the driver still wearing their mask in their car, with no one else with them. What if they had just forgotten to take it off after having gone to a store?
Then I began reflecting on my children. How often does my perspective conflict with the perspective of my children? How often do I judge their behavior without considering what their interpretation of the world might be?
I often view one of my children as my "Eeyore." Their glass is half empty always. They'll ask a question, and before I am even able to answer, they answer it themselves; "It's a no. It's always a no." I tend to get frustrated and even give consequences for seemingly constant negativity. But then I began thinking...do I always say "no?" Are my husband and I perhaps feeding into this melancholic temperament by failing to loosen the parenting reigns? Are they ready and capable of doing more, and we are just too tired, lazy, or selfish to adjust ourselves to accommodate growing independence?
Another one of my children seems too attached to me sometimes. They cannot fall asleep without me, and sometimes struggles to play or even eat independent of my lap (or, sometimes, as a distant consolation, my husband's). I get agitated when I am trying to homeschool, and this child is seemingly incapable of entertaining themselves, regardless of how many fun, engaging quiet activities I lay out or what kind of delicious snack I prepare. But then I began wondering...does this child feel left out during our school day? Should I be agitated when they fuss constantly for me, or is this child just communicating a need to be part of a community and a fear of being forgotten and ignored?
My other child can be aloof. I often wonder if this child even likes me. They are content to play on their own, drawing, reading, engaging in a world of imaginative play, solo. I tend to assume that this child is content on their own, so when the other children are away and it is just me and this child, I can easily sneak in a load of dishes or a basket of laundry, because this child is so content to be by themselves. But should I? Just because this is an introvert, am I hurting this child by ignoring them because of their good nature and independence? Do they, perhaps, portray that they do not like me because I have given them the impression that I don't care to spend time with them? After all, I've gotten in the habit of busying myself with chores when they are coloring or reading to themselves. What message does that send?
The answer, surely, is in the middle. One of my children is definitely melancholic. One of them is definitively a social butterfly who fears missing out. And one is a fiercely independent introvert. These are temperaments that God gave them. But I would certainly do well to always strive to see their life through these perspectives, and not judge them or react to them from my own. May we all approach every interaction - especially contentious ones - with a sensitivity to different perspectives.