Y is for Yes

is for Yes.

Yesterday I was fighting fatigue, and I found myself telling my boys no, or not yet, or maybe (just putting them off until I said no later). It's still bugging me.

In I is for Imagination I described a time when I came home and was immersed in play; it's not always like that. There are times, like yesterday, that I say no to something my boys want to do and I don't know why. I might have plans of my own, but even if I don't, it slips out. When I reflect on the fact that I've told them no to a game of baseball, or a trip to the park, I regret it.

Don't get me wrong, my boys need to get used to hearing, and heeding, a no from their parents - but there are different kinds, aren't there? Saying no to slapping a face is not the same as a no to a book because there's a game on TV, or because I'm tired.

The times my yes to them is vital are the times it's difficult; children have a way of knowing their parent's attention is not with them, their questions become louder, their desire to play more urgent. Of course, this triggers the no instinct. I'm sick of it, and I'm sick of the kind of me it produces.

I want to play. I want to want to give my attention and my energy to those little buggers. It hits me the hardest when they're in bed; their breathing is slow, they're still. In the silence of their room I question my motives, my actions, my priorities. I want to say yes.

"Dad, you want to play baseball?"
"Yes, bud, I do."
"You're the catcher, I'm the pitcher."

Yes. I will say yes.

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Read more about my theme this April in my intro to the A-Z Blogging Challenge. Or visit the home page here.