The Mean Mascot

This morning, I watched my 3^rd grader skip up to the school for her last day—a half-day no less--where they will do basically nothing.  The sun was peeking through the clouds and she was in good spirits.  As the car drop-off line inched forward, I saw the school mascot by the front door giving kids high-fives.  (Yes, my daughter’s public elementary school has a person who puts on a giant tiger costume and dances around like he’s at a college football game.)  The kids love him! 

Since Alexis adores animals (even fake ones), and has never been afraid of giant mascots, I knew she would be thrilled to give “Percy” the tiger a high-five or a fist-bump on her way into school.   I watched as she hung back letting other kids go first, kind of waiting her turn.  But, then, some kid’s dad started chatting with Percy and monopolizing the Tiger’s attention.  I could tell Alexis was moving slow, waiting for them to finish their conversation (Parents, please don’t have a conversation with the person dressed as the mascot when they are supposed to be focused on kids, thank you). 

Unfortunately, these two (the dad and the mascot) were obviously engrossed in their important convo, which would apparently end six months from never.  Alexis was sort of pushed along by the wave of kids behind her and went on up the steps to school.

I don’t know if she was disappointed, but I was disappointed for her.  I don’t know why, but I just wanted her to get that fun little thrill of high-fiving a tiger on her way into school.  “Yay!  It’s almost summer!”  It would have been such a nice start to her day and I knew it would thrill her little heart to get to do that. 

Boooo.  I thought to myself as I pulled out of the drop-off line.  Glancing in my rearview mirror to see that dad STILL talking to the mascot and several more kids hanging their head in disappointment.  (Not really, but that’s what I imagined.)

Anyway, it got me thinking about how much we want for our kids to have these sorts of fun experiences.  We want them to get high-fives from the mascot, we want them to get A’s and awards and trophies.  We want them to score goals, make baskets, get touchdowns.  We want them to get cast in the musical, make the cheerleading squad, or get selected for the robotics team.   We want them to make friends, impress teachers, get asked to the school dance.  We want them to experience the joy of roasting a marshmallow, finding seashells, going to Disney.  We want them to be strong, healthy, clever, and creative. 

Is it wrong to want these fun life experiences for our kids?

Of course not.  We want them for our kids because we’ve experienced a few of these sweet moments in life and we want those we love to also experience them. 

But, as we all know, sometimes they won’t.

Sometimes they won’t score a goal, win a race, or make the team.

Sometimes they will fail, fall, or mess up.

Sometimes, the marshmallow will fall in the fire.

Sometimes, a jellyfish’ll sting you.

Sometimes, you won’t get to go to Disney World.

Sometimes you will get made fun of.

Sometimes they won’t get to high-five the mascot.

I suppose that, ideally, my daughter wouldn’t have to face these sorts of let-downs, however, since I know she will, what I desire more than her getting to high-five the mascot, or get picked first for the team is that she will develop the strength to walk through those disappointments.  (And lean on God’s grace when she doesn’t have the strength.)

Like I said, I didn’t get to see Lexi’s face when she had to walk into school after being dissed by the chatty mascot (are those guys even supposed to talk??)  But, I truly hope that she didn’t let this little setback ruin her whole day.  I hope that seconds after she was up the stairs, she was smiling at friends and looking towards the fun day ahead rather than the disappointment behind her. 

Truthfully, I know that Alexis particularly has a difficult time with this sort of thing.  At a baseball game recently, she became obsessed with the desire to catch a foul ball.  Unfortunately, (or actually, rather fortunately depending on how you look at it), they were sitting behind home plate with a 30 foot net protecting them from any balls that got loose.  She spent an entire inning moping about the fact that she likely wouldn’t get a ball during this game. 

I’ve known adults like this—they let long lines, traffic jams, and extended waits at restaurants ruin their entire day.  They gripe and complain or sulk and huff.  (I confess, I’ve been one of these “adults” before when they were out of my favorite flavor of ice cream.) 

Consider it all joy my friends, when you encounter
various trials, knowing that the testing of your
faith produces endurance. James 1:2-3

But, part of maturing and part of growing in Christ, is developing the ability to smile and move on when things like this happen.  So, my prayer for my daughter (and myself) is that she will not let disappointments (large or small) ruin her life or even her day.  I pray that she will smile, look forward instead of back, and move on.  (I also suspect that she’ll be all the more grateful when, someday, a mascot does give her a fist-bump.) 

How about you?  How do you handle life’s letdowns? 

What about as a parent?  Do you try to shield your child from inevitable disappointments?  (Do you get out of the car and go make that stupid mascot high-five your darling daughter?)  Or do you pray that she will feel God's grace and be filled with His joy inspite of hardships?  

Let's pray for endurance rather than ease.