Ten parents who took part in a special survey told of some heartwarming instances where their children had said something that made them feel quite depressed. Like when a child asks a difficult question or says something so cute it makes their parents cry. These fairy tales serve as a reminder of the power of children’s speech and the bond that exists between parents and children.
My son, who will be six this year, recently finished Kindergarten. A few months ago, my husband and I went shopping with our five children on a Saturday in the middle of winter. During our walk through the store, our toddler spotted a Minnesota Vikings kid’s winter hat and set of gloves that he just had to have. I was concerned because they were expensive – $40!!!). But my husband and I couldn’t help ourselves, so we got them for him on the condition that he swears he won’t lose them. He agreed.
He wore them to school every day for the next week. Then when I went to do the laundry a week later, I couldn’t find the gloves and hat in his trunk. The moment I went to ask him where they were, my little boy’s head dropped. “Mom, I don’t have them anymore,” he muttered sadly. “Oh no, did you lose them, honey?” I replied in disbelief. My son shook his head. “No.” What? Confused, I said, “So what happened to them?”
“I gave them away,” he told me seriously. Sighing, I gently admonished him, stressing that he shouldn’t dispose of his property like that, especially considering its high price. My husband then asked who he gave them to. Our son responded by giving the name of another student in his class. I knew that the boy’s mother had recently lost her job and that the boy’s father had died a few years ago, so they had been living in extreme poverty for some time. His response to our question as to why he did this honestly broke my heart.
“Because he doesn’t have any hats or gloves, Mom, and his head and hands freeze every day at recess,” was my wonderful, naive, compassionate little boy’s response. I can wear a lot more hats and gloves than I have at home. It is acceptable? I have never felt so deeply disappointed and yet so immensely proud at the same time.
My boy was four years old. Once he went to a restaurant with my wife to buy pizza for lunch. A senior citizen entered, pushing a grocery cart. The waitress reluctantly brought him the cup of coffee he had ordered. After rummaging through his pocket, he produced a hot dog. He calmly consumed it, dipping each bite into his coffee.
When my son asked why he was behaving like that, my wife told him that he was impoverished and homeless. When my son became upset, he asked my wife if she could help him. My wife delivered him the untouched half of the pizza they were eating as they were about to leave.
As they left, he thanked them and cried.
As I entered the vehicle, my husband heard my son sobbing. When she asked him about it. With teary eyes, he replied, “Nothing, Mom… I just have feelings.”
My four and six-year-old daughters and I were looking through our wedding photos last year. Because they were so inquisitive and open, both girls kept asking why their mom and I were living together after marriage and why we were no longer with our parents.
I was about to fall asleep at night when I felt something warm and wet on my face. When I opened my eyes, my 4-year-old’s face was right next to mine. Her eyes ran down my cheeks. I quickly hugged her and asked why she was crying when I was so taken aback. She started sobbing uncontrollably and said to me in a broken and weak voice, “I don’t want to leave you, I don’t want to get married.”
My child asked if I was going to die because of the cancer treatment. “Not today love,” I only replied as I held him close. Ten years later, the assurance is still being honored.
At the age of seven, my daughter lost her father. His father, my daughter’s grandfather, died two weeks before his death. When I told her, she said something like, “If my dad died, I’d be really sad.”
Her father tragically died of a heart attack two weeks later. To tell them (he had four in all; at the time of his death they were seven, eleven, eleven, and twelve), we gather all the children. When we told them, she replied, “At least Daddy isn’t alone now.”
When my son was five years old, my husband died suddenly. The next day I took him downstairs to explain that his father had died. I had to lower my voice, almost practically, to keep from making him cry. In my opinion, he was too young to destroy his heart like that.
He calmly processed it all. Then he replied, “Mom, this heart hurts. I want a new one.” Quora / Grace Ozaeta-Granlund
When my child was ten, a cancer-like condition claimed his life. When they finally fought for his life, the doctors asked me to leave the room. “I won’t see you again,” he muttered as I turned to leave. “I know, bye,” I replied.
My five-year-old daughter often asked if she could have a little brother or sister. “I have no brothers or sisters and everyone in my dance class has TWO,” she sobbed.
That year around Christmas we announced that we were expecting her baby brother.
Unfortunately, we found out in 36w 5d that her sibling was not accompanying us home.
She asked, “You mean I’ll still be a lonely child?” when we delivered the message to her.
I have never heard words so heartbreakingly sad.
My son hates it when I leave for work. It’s hard to express why I have to leave. One evening he asked his father, “Dad, do you have to work tomorrow?” It was Sunday evening so I said yes.
He asked why. “Because I have to earn money for things like food and toys,” I commented.
“But I have money!” he shouted, getting quite excited about the situation. “We can use this,” he said, pulling out his Darth Vader pig. The next day, getting up and going to work was somewhat difficult.
When he was ten years old, his father, who had remarried, wooed him all winter, promising him a place at the wedding feast. As we lived in Canada and his father lived in England, he was excited at the prospect of spending time with him.
When all communication stopped in May, my son asked what he should do.
“Call Dad and find out what’s going on,” I ordered.
He walked into his bedroom and started howling like a wounded animal. He was crying so I went to him and took him in my arms.
He told me, “She said I can’t be in their wedding reception because I’m not her child,” when I asked him what happened. According to his father, the wedding had to be called off because of the cost, which included his plane tickets. Two months later, his father emailed him photos of the wedding, which included hundreds of people, two flower girls, six bridesmaids, and groomsmen.
Get ready to laugh, cringe, and maybe cry as ten brave women share their most embarrassing moments. Ranging from funny public mishaps to wardrobe disasters, these anecdotes will make you laugh out loud and maybe make you feel better about your own humiliating situations.
The stories these parents share offer poignant insights into the tender and often unexpected moments of vulnerability and empathy experienced through the lens of parenthood. Each anecdote underscores the deep connection between parents and their children, highlighting the depth of love, compassion, and resilience present in these relationships.
From the simple act of a child donating a prized possession to a classmate in need, to heart-wrenching expressions of grief and longing, these narratives encapsulate the spectrum of emotions that accompany the journey of raising children. Through moments of innocence, wisdom, and deep empathy, children demonstrate their ability to touch their parents’ hearts in ways that go beyond words.
Despite the challenges and trials depicted in these stories, there is a sense of hope and resilience that shines through. Through loss, illness, and disappointment, the bonds of love and family support remain strong and offer comfort and strength in life’s most difficult moments.
As we reflect on these heartfelt messages, we are reminded of the enduring power of parental love and the profound impact children can have on shaping our lives and perspectives. In celebrating these moments of vulnerability and connection, we honor the resilience, compassion, and unwavering bonds that define parenthood.