At the Crater Lake gift shop my daughter said, “Dad, do you like these socks?”
“I do like those!,” I said.
“Would you like me to buy them for you?”
“No, honey, that’s ok. But thanks for offering.”
But as I browsed the stickers I kept thinking about those cool green hiking socks she picked out for me.
So I went over to the sock section and looked them over again. And I changed my mind.
I really did like them and she made me a kind offer so I let her know that I would accept, if that was still ok with her.
And she said that it was. “But I don’t have my money on me, dad.”
“That’s ok, we’ll work out later on.”
I’ve spent plenty of unproductive mental energy in my life wishing people would pay enough attention to me that they know what I like and then act on it.
On my better days I speak up for myself. I let people know what I want and, more importantly, what I need. On my worse days I get stuck in the wishing well, chants of “poor me” echoing off of its narrow walls.
My daughter noticed me and acted on it. I chose to receive her gift. I chose to say, “yes!”