The Daisy Incident When I was nine, I accidentally broke a neighbor’s window. My parents paid for the repair but I was responsible for paying them back. I had a little bit of money from a recent birthday but it wasn’t enough. So, I had to work off my debt. I started with some relatively easy jobs around the house, earned a few dollars and started to make some progress. Then came the daisies. Way back in the back of our yard a bunch of wild daisies popped up. They were beautiful in the spring but by the time summer rolled around they were dried up and crispy and my mom wanted them gone. We agreed on a price of $5 to clear the daisies. I thought it was going to be easy money. . . until I got up close and realized how big and tough they were. I went to pull out the first one and it didn’t budge. It was August, the soil was bone dry and those roots apparently reached down to middle earth. I immediately went back to my mom and told her I’d changed my mind – that I didn’t want to do that job. My mom held her ground and said that I had to follow through with what I’d agreed to do. I tried a different angle and suggested that we at least renegotiate the price. My mom held her ground. I went back out to the daisy patch and pouted. It took me four months to clear that daisy patch. If I’d really put some effort into it I could have been done in a couple of days. But, it turns out that it’s hard to mope and cut daisies at the same time. A few times, my mom came out and chopped down daisies with me. She agreed it was hard work but she held her ground and left me to finish the job. My mom and I joke about the daisy incident to this day. I like to tease her about forcing me to chop down daisies the size of redwoods in the hot august sun. She maintains that it took me four months to pick a few flowers in the yard. The real truth is, I learned an important lesson that summer about hard work, follow-though and being true to your word. As a parent, I’m sure it would have been easier to just let me off the hook. I know it would have been more pleasant than having a surly 9-year-old at dinner table for all those months. But, if she’d given in, I’d be a different person today. Thanks, Mom!
Posted on: Tue, 10 Jun 2014 04:33:10 +0000
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