I picked up my daughter from art class last night and on the drive home she asked if I like going to work in the morning.
“Like going to work in the morning,” I asked? “What do you mean?”
“You know. Getting up early when the house is cold. Getting your clothes on. Eating something. All the stuff you have to do to get ready for work. ”
“Oh. God. No. I hate going to work every single morning that I go. Every morning I have to go, I want to stay home. I think about making a fire and having a cup of coffee and watching the stocks. You know me: I’m a homebody. I never want to leave. ”
I went on. “But…you know what? Once I’m at work, I love it. I love what I do and I like who I work with and I think my work is important. So when I don’t want to go, I remind myself how much I like it when I’m there.”
She didn’t hesitate at all. She’s nine, after all, and chatty and giddy. “I know just what you mean. I never want to get up. And when I’m up, I only want to go back to bed. So I tell myself how much I like school and how much fun I will have when I get there. ”
I’m sure there a wise lesson here somewhere. Marshmallow test? Self-talk? Doing the things that need doing?
What do you think?