Shattered Glass: Reflections on Power and Parenting

One of our sons threw his dishes into the sink. And I mean that literally. He threw them, and they smacked and rebounded around with a loud thud.

He did this dish-tossing as an act of rebellion, because of some standard I had held him to earlier that evening. And it honestly worked, I was fuming because of it. This moment, charged with emotion and defiance, set the stage for a significant parenting reflection.

And as I went to wash the dishes, I found a broken glass.

What a perfect metaphor it was. In the broken glass, I saw more than just the result of a child's frustration; I saw a metaphor for power and its consequences. It made me realize how even the smallest actions can have a significant impact. Our son, in his own way, was expressing a need to feel powerful and seen. It reminded me that each of us, regardless of age, grapples with understanding and harnessing our own strength.

Lately, Bo has seemed nervous. Vulnerable in his own skin; he doesn’t feel powerful, I think. He seems to fawn over story characters and athletes because of their power and physical strength. A lot of his externally-narrated emotional processing keys in on his desire to feel and be seen as strong.

He might be too little for this to have sunk in, but I tried:

It’s not about the glass, I said. This broken glass proves you have power. It proves you have capability. You have the ability to influence the world around you, your actions affect other things and other people. Don’t feel like you don’t have power, because you do.

This is hard for me and other adults to understand, I added, but I still tried to explain it to him.

We all have two simple choices.

First, we all have power, talent, capability, and influence - but will we choose to even use it? Will we put ourselves out there and try to apply our influence onto the world around us? Not everyone does this. Not everyone accepts that they have power. Acknowledging the power, influence, talent, and capability we have is a choice. We are not helpless.

If we accept that we have power, and choose to use it, how? How will we use that power? Will we choose to use it to benefit others? Will we use it solely to enrich ourselves? Will we use it recklessly and irresponsibly? Will we use our power to break glasses or to bring water to those who thirst for it? How we wield power is a choice. We are not obligated to be monsters, we can choose better.

I doubt any of this conversation stuck with Bo, or with Myles who observed the conversation happen. Returning to the kitchen, where the incident began, I realized that this moment was not just about a broken dish. And it’s not just for my kids to remember that they have to choose to accept that they have power and choose how to wield it. If I say it enough times, maybe some of it will stick in my mind, too.

This incident with my son highlighted a universal truth: we all possess power in various forms, and how we choose to wield it - whether to create or to destroy - is a profound responsibility. This isn’t something just for my sons to hear, I need to hear this too.