ruby.monkey
XT1S0002
Here’s what I’ve learned so far:
When you love a kid, your job is to be there for her, always, and to listen. There are such stories inside her, worlds she’s dying to build; they keep her mind fizzing long into the night with gods and robots, diamonds and dirt. Rust and sweat and matted fur. (Be curious, especially, about tangled paths and thorns.)
Never mind that business of praising her appearance (unless she’s wearing armor she forged herself, and she’s proud). And for heaven’s sake, don’t ask what she’ll be when she’s grown. Find out who she is now. Ask questions, good ones, and make yourself vulnerable in return. The young can’t spill their secrets to just anyone — remember what it felt like to be small, and how easily a fortress can shatter. If she whispers, know that you’re on fragile ground, and whisper back.
Beyond that, the rest is easy. Help her find the right tools, trust her to tell her own tale, and let go. She’ll find you again when she’s ready. Accept that in the end, when all is said and done, you might not have taught her a darned thing. You’re not here to lead her somewhere. She’s here to guide you.
Blog photograph copyrighted to the photographer and used with permission by utata.org. All photographs used on utata.org are stored on flickr.com and are obtained via the flickr API. Text is copyrighted to the author, Jenn Wilson and is used with permission by utata.org. Please see Show and Share Your Work
