About a jump rope

I own a fancy jump rope that I use at the gym. I mean, it cost $20 so it’s not crazy expensive, but as far as jump ropes go… well, I consider it fancy.

Today, Aiden saw the jump rope setting on the table, and asked if he could play with it. I was inclined to say no, because I consider it part of my workout equipment, and as such not really a child’s toy. Also, it’s specifically sized for me and would be awkwardly long for a six-year-old boy.

But I agreed. However, there were conditions: he must stay on the front porch, and he is only to use it for its intended purpose.

I proceeded to make dinner inside, while the boys were playing on the porch. After a bit of time had passed, Connor ran in the front door to announce, “Aiden broke your jump rope!” with the flair that only a four-year-old tattling on his older brother can have.

Outside, I found Aiden scrambling to locate the pieces and re-attach the handle to the rope, which was dangling from a tree limb out front. He had obviously been using it as leverage to climb up the tree.

I was upset, partly because the rope was now ruined beyond repair, but partly because of Aiden’s blatant disregard for the conditions of use. I know that it’s just a jump rope, but I had made it clear to Aiden that it was an important possession, so I was hurt that he had treated it with such carelessness.

I wanted to yell and scream (well, I might have done that a bit), and I wanted to send him to time-out or take away toys or revoke screen time. But logically, I knew this was not the answer. After I had taken a few moments to compose myself, I crouched down to his level and we discussed his actions. I explained how I understood that breaking the rope was an accident, but — was he supposed to use it off the porch? Or wrap it around the tree? Would the rope have gotten broken if he had stayed on the porch as I asked?

“Aiden,” I said, “I trusted you to be careful with my special jump rope. I’m upset that it’s broken, but I’m also really sad, too.”

He was crying, of course, but still listening. I left him to clean up the toys from the front yard and went back inside to finish dinner.

After some more time had passed, Aiden cautiously opened the door and called my name. He was holding a sheet of paper. He handed it to me.

And just like that, I went from frustrated to proud of my little human. I didn’t ask him to apologize. He decided on his own and came up with a meaningful way to do so. I could see the chalk outlines of words on the porch, where he had practiced first, concentrating on shaping the letters and sounding out the words.

Despite the fact that I’m down a jump rope, I consider today a big win. I’ll take a kind, empathetic kid over a prized possession any day. In parenting, as in life, not every day is a win, so you should celebrate those that are.