One of my most favorite sounds in the world is that of my boy getting frustrated. It starts with a few grumbles and escalates into a high-pitched scream, sometimes accompanied by a “I can’t do it!” and is often followed by a full-out cry. And I just adore it.

I know this sounds sadistic and mean. What mother enjoys the sound of her kid’s cry? Aren’t we, as a species, hard-wired to have a visceral reaction when our kid is upset or needs our help?

The thing is, though, that I know that when The Who gets frustrated like that, he is learning an invaluable life skill that I am so committed to him mastering: frustration tolerance. Something I pretty much suck at.

So, yes. I love hearing him struggle with something. Hearing him reach the end of his rope, express it, and then gather the rope back up and try again. More than any other thing I may or may not be doing right as a parent, giving him the space to get frustrated and work it out feels like the rightest one.

One thought on “Frustration.

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