Meeting People Where They Are

One of the two hardest things to learn, I think, is how to meet folks where they are at this moment. The other is meeting yourself there, too.

Skipping over folks to some random spot where we expect to find them is easy because things can so readily nudge us—expectations, assumptions, what-ifs.

When my oldest son was in second or third grade, he was over at the Captain Underpants and Diary of a Wimpy Kid books. I was where I thought he should be, at the Planet and Dinosaur books. This transpired at the book fair at his school’s annual Fall Festival, a school-wide celebration for students and their families.

That single episode was a pivot for me. I went from assuming things about my kids to noticing what was there instead. I learned to trust—them, life, me.

It took some fruitless cajoling of my son at that book fair, then experimental willingness on my part, and finally good old acceptance before I was able to walk over to my son. For his part, he simply stood there happily leafing through the stack of silly cartoon paperbacks.

In retrospect, I wonder how I could have wanted to be anywhere else.

That night was festive and happy. We ran into families we knew. We placed our family’s carved pumpkin carefully at the contest table to be judged. We roamed the school hallways participating in various events.

Then we wandered into the school library where the book fair was held. Our family was big into books. I’ve said many times that I had children just so I could read to them. We did it every day. We did it for as many years as we could before their own abilities took over and turned them into reading gnomes under their bed sheets late into the night.

I would act out scenes in the books, using different voices. When I heard my sons’ laughter over this, my heart exploded inside. And children's books can be so funny, so there is plenty of opportunity to help your little people giggle their way through childhood.

Reading a book is a gift. Reading a book to someone else is an exalted gift—to everyone involved.

There was another goal I had in reading to my kids other than laughter and joy—learning and curiosity. Each of these is important and makes a good life, but when my son and I were browsing the book fair tables in the library that year, my plan was to load up on books that skewed to learning and would impart great knowledge to my son.

I didn’t know then what I know now—laughter and joy are some of the best things one can learn.

My son was an interested sort—keen on listening to stories and explanations on all kinds of subjects. He asked questions. He liked it when we read about new features of the world. We’d never tried cartoon books though.

“Mom, I want this one,” he told me as he handed over a book with a rudimentary cartoon character on the front. In big letters across the top, it read Captain Underpants.

I took it from him and flipped through the book, front to back. What is this? I thought. I immediately judged it to be nonsense and not what I had in mind for my son. I was in the market for books that would help him be successful one day.

What my son wanted was to smile.

This was wise on his part, for he was shy and cautious. Making friends didn’t come easy. And while he was a good student, no doubt a complicated school day called for a breather of levity.

Thankfully, prior to that Fall Festival, I’d gone to a presentation on reading given by the school’s reading specialist for parents of young kids. Her main point was this—instill a love of reading early on and you’ve created a reader. Despite my ambivalence, this guided me to the check-out counter with a cartoon book in hand that evening.

I think what drew my son to the Captain Underpants books was their absurdity and satirical presentation of hierarchy and rules. My son has always been a believer in rules. He is an obliging, generous, and fair person with high integrity.

It might have been that the exposure to spoofy cartoons about social structures was helpful for him. Maybe it lightened the load a shy, obedient kid sometimes carries around. The books made him laugh because these were the silliest ideas he’d ever heard. They were Opposite Day on repeat. They validated who he was by poking fun at an absurdly opposite scenario.

I recall thinking Captain Underpants was sort of funny. I’d be surprised when my son would belly laugh at a scene I didn’t find especially amusing. I was learning new things about my son which was a new experience for me.

By third grade, your child is starting to accumulate details and facts about themselves that you’re not there to witness. You begin to learn from an outside position versus an inside position.

When we curled up together to read those books, I was getting to know my son.

These days my son is a computer engineer who loves his work and enjoys his long-standing group of friends. He didn’t turn into an astronomer or paleontologist, nor did he become a comedian.

Instead, he’s become a good friend among his peers. He laughs heartily at his friends’ jokes, and I must imagine they enjoy this about him. He’s a person who values the straight and narrow but when it comes to absurd humor, you will hear him laugh like there’s no tomorrow.

If any of those cartoon books had anything to do with that, I’m grateful I made the fluky decision to meet my child where he truly was. It certainly taught me something about where I was.

Be well, friends.