A Strong Conscience

If you know Lincoln, you know he was born with an extreme conscience. Since the time he was nine months old, if we told him “no,” his little lip would pout out and he would cry. It is just the way he has always been. He is constantly worried about making bad choices and disappointing me. He follows Maverick around and makes sure he doesn’t hurt himself. The many times Maverick has fallen and bumped his head, gotten a bloody lip, black eye(s), or pinched finger, Lincoln is found hiding in the corner crying, “I don’t want my brother to die!” It amazes me how much he cares about other people. To get him to stop doing something, all I have to ask is, “what kind of choice is that?”

As grateful as I am for such a sweet boy, it breaks my heart at times. I want him to worry less.  He parents Maverick when he should be playing carelessly beside him. The other day Lincoln was screaming from the toy room, “Mom Maverick pooped!”

I kept cleaning my bedroom and yelled back, “Alright, I will be there in a minute.”

Lincoln continued to yell, “Mom, help! He pooped!”

I stopped for a moment, “Is there poop all over the place?”

Lincoln cried out, “No, but he pooped. Hurry it stinks! Hurry mom! He is trying to go down the slide!”

I finished up what I was doing and went to go change Maverick’s diaper. As soon as I walked in the playroom, I could see the real problem. Maverick was attempting to go down the slide and Lincoln, who was worried he would get hurt, was holding him around the waist with his face right in his stinky butt. He would rather smell a poopy diaper than let his brother go down the slide. I scolded Lincoln, “Just let him go down the slide!”

“But he will hurt himself!”

And as any terrible parent would say, I said “Then let him get hurt!”

Sounds bad right?

Later, the bad Lincoln tried to come out. After forcing him to brush his teeth, he was mad! He closed his mouth and held his hands in tight little fists. I could tell his mind was racing for something bad to do. He went and opened the bathroom cupboard and pulled out the bag of toilet paper. His eyes darted around the bathroom for a place to throw the toilet paper, but they quickly fell back towards the cupboard. I could see in his eyes he wanted to show me how mad he was, but he didn’t want to do anything really bad.

He then returned the toilet paper to a different cupboard and closed the door softly. With his arms across his chest he huffed and gave me this look like, “Did you see what I just did? Yea? I will do it again if you aren’t careful.”

I literally had to hide my smile. He moved the toilet paper from one cupboard to another just to make me mad. Instead of laughing at his weak attempt of a temper-tantrum, I gave him a sad look of disapproval. Satisfied, he stormed out.

If it had been the four-year-old me, I am sure I would have thrown them all in the bathtub and then turned the water on.

I hope that his strong conscience stays with him forever, especially during his teenage years.

 These pictures were taken at the pumpkin patch.