We have a new saying in our house. It goes “Focus on what you do have, not what you don’t have.” This saying is nothing new. It’s a central theme of most, if not all world religions, spoken by the likes of Jesus Christ, the Dalai Lama, Muhammad. And it was uttered by me, a mother of a particularly ungrateful three-year-old after a family trip to the Milwaukee Zoo.
This trip to the zoo was extra exciting because it was during “Feast with the Beasts”. This is a special, annual festival at the zoo where they have yummy food vendors at almost every corner. So you can watch the elk grazing in their fake, but realistic-looking, grassy habitat and go across the way and enjoy a bison burger. It’s awesome.
So we are on our adventure, having a great time when our offending three-year-old, William, spots one of those binocular viewing things that you put a quarter into and can look at blurry images of whatever animal is 50 feet away. “I’m gonna get a wax mold today.” Ah, opportunity cost! William knows that at every trip to the zoo, he can either choose to get a $2 wax mold or a 25 cent look at the scenery. Today he has chosen the wax mold. I’m impressed and proud of his maturity and economic intelligence. Less than 20 minutes later William has his majestic, warm, waxy elephant figurine.
“I’m hungry.” Mom and Dad buy William a giant bowl of shaved ice covered in orange syrup. I think this is where things went wrong. We took a detour from our usual “no treats before meals” stance because hey, this is Feast with the Beasts and anything goes. William really gets into that shaved-ice. He loves it.
We go into the reptile house and the small mammal house. We head to the zoo train. On the way, William sees the carousel, but we play the “only one ride” card and make him pick. He sticks with the plan - the train. We ride around, wave at all the on-lookers, have a great time, and get off.
“I’m hungry.” Mom and Dad buy William a croque-monsieur, which is a fancy way of saying “ham and cheese sandwich” but because it was from a fancy French restaurant, it’s called a croque-monsieur. William and his sister split it and devour it. Mom and Dad are happy that even though they are buying a lot on this zoo trip, it seems to be appreciated and worth it. Yay!
We look at a few more animals, and decide to call it a day and head home for naps. That’s when it starts. William gets mad. He wants stuff. Mom and Dad half listen for the ride home, interjecting a “no” or a “next time” every once in a while. We get back to the house, and William sits down in the mud room and just keeps going on about how he wants this wax mold and this toy and blah blah blah. And. I. lose. it. “YOU JUST GOT A TON OF STUFF AT THE ZOO. YOU GOT A WAX MOLD, A SHAVED ICE, A CROQ...HAM AND
CHEESE. WE RODE THE TRAIN AND YOU GOT TO SEE THE ALLIGATORS AND THE BATS AND ALL THOSE ANIMALS!” William looks at me. Blinks. I continue in a slightly calmer, normal volume. “Focus on what you do have, not what you don’t have. How about a thank you?” “Thank you, Mommy.” He goes off and plays, with the endless junk he does have.
I felt like this was the first time that William actually listened to me and understood the lesson I was trying to teach him. In our throw-away culture of excess and bigger is better, I’ve worried about how to teach my kids the life-lesson of gratitude. Happiness means being content with one’s present situation and not striving endlessly for the next big thing. This post-zoo “discussion” was the first step towards that, probably of many, as we navigate the path of raising aware, contented kids. So now, whenever the greed monster rears his ugly head, I say “Focus on what you…” and William finishes “do have, not what you don’t have.”
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