Family Parables -- What ARE They All About?

Families need parables, their own stories with their own lessons. Households with one child and perhaps a dog and a cat produce as many stories as the Brothers Grimm. Even better, they can analyze them over the years, find their own lessons. Here's one of our family's earliest parables.

One of my parent's friends, a Wagner fanatic, went every year to the Bayreuth Festival. She wallowed in the music, did some sightseeing, and brought back exquisite presents for me, me, me. For my third birthday, she arrived with a dotted Swiss dress. It had probably been expensive, perhaps a designer dress, because our friend found bargains mundane, boring. It was scratchy because the white "dots" weren't printed but were embroidered on the Navy blue fabric. The style was classic toddler chic way back then and is still classic toddler chic today. It was a belt less creation with an embroidered bodice, little puffed sleeves, and a Peter Pan collar. I probably looked cute in my belt less creation, at least as cute looking as I ever got, so Mother had me wear it often. How I hated that dress! Not because it was scratchy, but because it had no belt. Only babies wore dresses without belts, and I was no longer a baby. I was three, much too old for a belt less creation. I loathed that dress, simply loathed it! Did I tell my mother how much I hated wearing that dress? I did not.

One day when Mother was off substitute teaching, the person who was supposed to be "watching" me was nowhere to be seen. Opportunity had arrived. Sneaking that detested dotted Swiss from my closet and the scissors from the flatware drawer in the kitchen, I hid under the dining room table and methodically cut my first and last designer dress into shreds. I'd never have to wear it again. Ever. I threw the scraps into the kitchen wastebasket and returned the scissors to the flatware drawer.

When Mother got home, she soon found the remains and said what she always said, "We need to talk about this." Parents of only children shouldn't concern themselves or their children with questions about who did what. After all, the identity of the perpetrator is usually perfectly clear. Off we went to the living room couch for our discussion. Whatever Mother believed in she believed in firmly, wholeheartedly. She believed uncomfortable discussions should be conducted in comfort. Comfort helps create a climate of calm which makes listening easier. Mother believed positive changes in behavior were the result of attentive listening. Neither scoldings nor punishments worked with me. I think I listened to Mother because she listened to me. Over the years, Mother and I listened to each other. Attentively. And we did alter our behaviors. Sometimes she changed for the better, and sometimes I did. Neither one of us thought my father needed much improving. The cutting-up-the-dress discussion turned out to have a profound effect on us both. It began that afternoon on our living room couch, but I don't think it ever ended. It remains a parable in our family "scripture." Like all parables, it is a story with lessons.

(To be continued)