A Bad Influence

Every morning she keeps watch for him. As we edge closer to school and pass by his street, she cranes her neck looking for him. If we spot him walking to school surrounded by his gaggle of sisters, I dutifully pull over and she tumbles out of the car to get to walk with him and his family. They’re both six and great buddies. She adores him and his sisters and his parents. He seems to bounce a little more when she joins the team.

But I have my insecurities about being a burden and don’t want to intrude on anyone so I’ve made sure to clear it with his mom that having my daughter join the troupe is welcomed. But I hear that nagging voice of self-doubt nonetheless.

She’s asked me to circle the block to go in the alleyway to her dropoff point rather than have her walk across the parking lot. “In case he’s on his way to school,” she says. Sure enough, we meet up on the next turn. She races to grab her gear and, on her way out, I comment “How do you know he wants to walk with you?” I could’ve punched myself in the face.

My daughter is filled with self confidence. I admire her personality at every turn. She’s happy. She likes everyone. She’s never met a stranger and since her birth has charmed the masses. She likes who she is. She’s strong and capable and independent and my greatest excitement in life is to get to watch her take on the world.

In short, she’s nothing like me.

So how dare I even think of passing my insecurities onto her? My son is a lot like me. Cautious. Always looking for the assurances. So I try everything I can to silence his negative inner voice before it has a chance to get too loud like mine is. I build him up and pump his confidence. But in my daughter I have exactly who I always wished I could be. I can’t be the negative voice she doesn’t already possess!

She ignored my statement. I hoped it was because she didn’t hear it (she has that frustrating ability to completely tune out my voice). But all the same, the guilt and admonishment I felt was a good reminder that nature may have given my children beautiful and wonderful gifts, but I still have a responsibility to nurture those traits. Otherwise I run the risk of destroying them – the talents and the human.