Gauging Responses

In this world of political correctness, I find myself always trying to give the most right (I know, grammatically incorrect) response to any question. I literally must have a built in gauge in the speech section of my brain that gathers, fetters and checks over my every response before it is cleared for delivery. Gone are the days of just answering a question from my heart because those types of retorts I have often noticed, draw a snarl or bad feelings sometimes causing repairable damage. Remember when you were young and could just blurt out exactly what you thought? Look back at those times properly with clear vision even as you thought you were voicing your opinion truth be told, there was probably some other party looking to revise your intensity.

I have resumed my walking regimen with the children now that the weather is changing. Every day we meet up with a very nice Yard neighbor who usually walks along with us to get his grandson. This particular day my youngest was complaining that the sun was in her eyes so my neighbor suggested that she ask her dad to get her a pair of “sun spectacles” (curious thing about my people is that we have this engrained habit of calling items by their original or outmoded name… hence glasses are spectacles and pants are trousers… even though conversely a lot of us don’t know when to use an A sound as opposed to a H sound – go figure). To my horror my baby said “I don’t want to hear that!”

I thought and intervened immediately. “No Honey, you can’t speak like that to Mr. H., he is an adult.” My embarrassed neighbor muttered a lot of platitudes, “its okay…she didn’t mean anything by it…children will be children,” but the damage had already been done. All of a sudden I felt as if the innocent mutterings of child reflected badly on my parenting skills thus, I sought to edit her. What’s so bad about her reply? Shouldn’t her candidness be applauded? Wasn’t her candor coming from a place of truth with no intention to hurt or dismay and technically should be embraced? But the ways of the world intervened in the form of Momma and she apologized and perhaps learned a lesson that day.

Three things cometh not back: the spoken word, the sped arrow and the missed opportunity.