Yes You Can.

There are a lot of things that Bill and I want for our kids. Things to embrace, things to avoid, things to strive for. One of those things is to always do your best and never be a quitter. You don't have to be the best at everything, but we want you to try as hard as you can and not give up because you think it's too hard. Sawyer is a quitter. Yup, I said it. From freaking out about trying new foods, to riding his bike, to letting the dentist look in his mouth, there are things that seem just too hard and Sawyer's plan of action thus far has been: It's too hard, I can't do it. I know he's four and some of you are probably thinking, "He's only FOUR!" but habits and mind sets that start early, root and run deep, could develop into a lifelong pattern. A pattern of quitting is not going to fly in this family :)

We took the kids to the park last week because it was gorgeous out. Little did we know this would end up being one of those memories that Bill, Sawyer and I will have forever. The monkey bars have always been this looming piece of equipment that lures him over every trip to the park. They are high and scary but the big kids do it and he wants to swing along those bars so badly, it's written all over his face. But every time he tries to make it across, he swings onto the first wrung, freaks out, drops down and that's that. Bill and I realized that there had to be a point when we pushed him to get over this quitters hump. Friday was that day.

Over the next forty five minutes there were tears, wailing sobs, snotty nose wipes, dramatic flopping down into the sand, drink breaks, pep talks and dozens of, "I can't do it! It's too hard!" It wasn't too hard. It really wasn't. I don't want you to think we were asking him to do something that was really too hard. We were asking him to try and not give up. Believe that he could do it. We must have hoisted him up onto that thing over fifty times. Now, I consider myself to be more patient than Bill normally. But that day, Bill get's the shiny-gold-Daddy-of-the-year award. He was such a calm, encouraging constant motivator for Sawyer.

All the way across one time. That's all we wanted. We knew he was capable of doing it. Sawyer needed to stop saying I can't and just do it. Guess what? He did it. All the way across! The tear stained face and a little blister on his hand was nothing in compassion to the strut in his step and the puff in his chest. He was proud. It wasn't the success at the playground that happened that day, it was a seed of

'I can' that was planted in the heart of a little boy that will hopefully take root and grow with him.

Good Job, Buddy. Good job*