Is It Just Me – Thank-you, I mean it

Thank you. How many times each day do we say these words or encourage our children to say them? The sales clerk gives you change and a receipt. Thank you. A young woman waits and holds open the elevator door. Thank you. You pay off your charge account at the instabank and the screen says: thank you.

Even the machines in our lives have manners. But, do we ever feel real gratitude? Our children are taught to say, thank you, by rote. The phrase has become a reflex like sneezing or blinking. I wonder if we should be satisfied with vacant terms of civility.

I find cavalier gratitude depressing and I’ve been searching for an example to change my mind. But, if the phrase ever means more than a hollow echo of entitlement, how will I recognize it?

Last week, a friend sent me a link to a You-Tube video of an eight year-old boy opening up his Christmas present. From the setting, it was clear that luxuries were few in this household. The boy tore open the wrapping paper to reveal an X-box 360. What followed was an out-pouring of emotion that reminded me of the lovely and reflective nature of gratitude.

“Is this really for me?” he asked his parents in astonishment.

“All for you, Bud” said the dad.

“I’ve wanted one of these my whole life! But, it must’ve cost you guys a fortune.”

After furiously hugging his parents, the little boy returned to his gift and repeatedly exclaimed over it.

“Daddy, I love this but it’s so expensive. How can you afford it?” he asked worriedly.

“We saved up for a while, Bud. And, now it’s yours free and clear.” You could hear the smile and the pride in the father’s tone. I was struck by how memorable this moment would be for this family. The little boy not only received his heart’s desire, but he showed his appreciation of the work his parents put in to ensuring that he could have it. And, the parents experienced their son’s gratitude as well as the incomparable high that is felt when giving a loved one the perfect present. While the gift was incredible, they will all have visceral memories of that day because of their mutual consideration and joy.

Recently, our son, Charlie, returned to Grade Eight for second term and received his exam results. He texted his dad and I all day as the marks rolled in like front page headlines from different editions. We felt proud of our son because he had studied harder than ever for these exams and was clearly maturing into a young man who can appreciate the benefits of diligence.

My husband called me halfway through the day. “I was thinking – maybe we should get Charlie something to show our appreciation for his effort”, he said.

I’d been mulling over the same idea and told him so. Married twenty-five years, minds think alike.

My husband asked if there was a particular game Charlie would like or some other electronic gizmo. I had also given this some thought and conveyed my suggestion. My husband concurred instantly with a grin in his voice, and said he’d buy the item that afternoon and have it home with a bow for dinner-time.

Just before six o’clock, we tip-toed stealthily up to Charlie’s room with our seven year- old son, Harrison, who carried a big bedecked box in his gangling arms. Charlie quizzically looked up from his homework when we entered.

“What’s going on?” he asked, his brown eyes deepening with intrigue. It wasn’t often that our family made a group pilgrimage like this unless a birthday was afoot.

“This is for you because you studied so hard for your exams” said Harrison, his voice climbing high with excitement about his brother’s gift.

A sunny smile lit up Charlie’s face as he accepted his shiny new, old-fashioned pop-up toaster. My thirteen year-old has only known the less than dramatic practical attributes of “The Toaster Oven”, one of the few appliance compliances I made when my husband and I were first married. Whenever we’ve seen a movie or TV show that included a kitchen scene with a pop-up toaster, Charlie has longingly commented on the awesome coolness of the machine and how much he would love to use one. “It’s the popping up, Mom” he has told me on these occasions. “It’s as if the toast is saying, ta-da!”

Charlie loves kitchen pageantry. I’m sure he’ll ask for a flambé set in the next year or two.

Now, he stood dazed with happiness, trying to stammer out his feelings.

“You guys are amazing. I can’t believe you actually remembered how much I wanted one of these things. This is the best present I’ve ever gotten. Thank you so much.”

My husband and I exchanged big smiles. I felt Charlie’s thank you resonate in my gut, the best truth-detector I know. I realized then that true gratitude is often articulated with something other than those two words. There are eyes and smiles and inflections which act as adjectives for “thank you” and give it depth. I also felt the high of having given Charlie the perfect present. In fact, the only thing higher that day was the piece of rye toast that flew out of a proud boy’s new pop-up toaster.

"Connected Parenting advises us not just how to parent, but—far more important—who to be as parents. The therapeutic methods suggested by Jennifer Kolari are based not on simple-minded behavioural solutions, but on building warm, nurturing relationships with our children, with insight and compassion not only for their little flaws, but also for our own larger ones."
—Gabor Maté, M.D.

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