"The second I walk in the door, she’s on my heels. Showing me a thousand pictures, talking non-stop about her day, balancing on one foot, then the other. If I’m distracted, she might mix things up a little. Pulling on my sweater, singing at the top of her lungs, or whining.
She wants my attention.
But she wants more than just my gaze, she wants to be seen.
Dropping his backpack with a thud, he plops on the couch. No words, just grunts, shrugs, and “I don’t know” when I ask about his day. I feel frustrated. Fine, if you don’t want to talk, I’ll go in the other room and do one of the fifty tasks piled up in there.
He doesn’t say it, but he wants my attention too.
He wants more than my patronizing words and half-hearted attempts at communication, he wants to be seen."
Click here to read the rest of this post by Nicole Schwartz on ImperfectFamilies.com.
She wants my attention.
But she wants more than just my gaze, she wants to be seen.
Dropping his backpack with a thud, he plops on the couch. No words, just grunts, shrugs, and “I don’t know” when I ask about his day. I feel frustrated. Fine, if you don’t want to talk, I’ll go in the other room and do one of the fifty tasks piled up in there.
He doesn’t say it, but he wants my attention too.
He wants more than my patronizing words and half-hearted attempts at communication, he wants to be seen."
Click here to read the rest of this post by Nicole Schwartz on ImperfectFamilies.com.
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