I remember vividly the moment the Easy button appeared in front of me. The Big Guy was standing next to me in the checkout line admiring the array of confections displayed before him. He gingerly touched the lollipop and then let out a piercing wail,"Mamaaa, I want that! Give me that!" He was three. Suddenly appearing before me were two roads; one was wide, with mountains of candy along the shoulder, with happy children on top gorging themselves on lollipops and chocolate. Behind them were their parents, enjoying conversations with their friends and sipping fine wine. The sky was a beautiful azure blue and birds flew through the air making beautiful music. The other road was narrower with hords of crying boys and girls screaming and throwing themselves down on the pavement. Moms and Dads were forging through the crowd with their heads down, holding onto their offsping while they kicked their legs and gnashed their teeth. The sky was dark and ominous and there wasn't a critter in sight. As my child thrust himself onto the ground at my feet with a high pitched scream, I suddenly became aware of which road I was about to embark on; one fraught with temper tantrums, snotty noses, interrupted conversations and fully-loaded grocery carts left standing in the aisles. Oh, how I wanted to walk the wide road. The children were darling and the parents wore fine clothes. Here I was, disheveled and disillusioned about my role as this child's mother. I wanted my baby to be happy, quiet and just like those children on the wide road. If I would just press the Easy button and give him that lollipop, all that could be mine. As I watched my son roll around next to the register, I began contemplating my next move. Suddenly, I heard my mother's voice, "Honey, you tell that child no. No is not a bad word. And furthermore, you don't have to tell him why. Don't let the experts make you feel bad about it either." As the Easy button flashed over the wide road, I turned away from it and took the candy from my son's sweaty little palm. He began crying hysterically and started pleading with me by pulling on my pant leg. With a heavy heart, I patted his little blonde head and turned to pay for my groceries. The old woman behind me winked as I turned her way and said, "You won't regret that, dear." But, I did. My son was miserable and I was following him into his misery. However, once our faces hit the sunshine in the parking lot, my son's tears dried up and he stretched out his arms towards me. I scooped him up and when he patted his cheek for a kiss, I obliged. Once again, I saw the two roads, only now, the wide road wasn't filled with dancing children and happy parents. Instead, when the children smiled, I could see rotten teeth and menacing looks of madness about them. Their parents were no longer sipping wine, they were talking to what appeared to be teachers, principals and some were even talking to the police and their lawyers! Many had babies on their hips that weren't theirs and their own sons and daughters were standing among the ruins of the great road screaming obscenities and telling them that they were awful parents. All around them was chaos. Sons and daughters were scattered everywhere; some were going through their parents' belongings and stealing money. Others were ordering their parents to buy them video games, clothing and shoes. Mothers cried uncontrollably and fathers, if they were there, were scratching their heads and looking emasculated. It was a scene of unimagined horror. But the other road... Once dark and frightening, this narrow road gave way to a great light. Aging parents were being tended to lovingly by sons and daughters who gently brushed their hair or brought them fine gifts. Their grandchildren ran barefoot through the soft grass and would only stop their merrymaking long enough to lean up and kiss the cheek of their elders. Younger parents with teenagers were playing card games or watching their child explain a science project to college professors. Images of report cards with A's, B's and C's floated onthe wind and kids who had just finished their chores were joining the throng of grownups-to-be as they made preparations for a camping trip. Sons stopped fathers for advice and daughters shared cups of coffee with their mothers while they discussed boys. Dogs and children rolled downhill into piles of freshly raked leaves where they would dissolve into laughter. I knew then what I wanted. I wanted a respectful, well-mannered child. I wanted my son to grow up happy and healthy with a plan for his life. I wanted him to learn the meaning of patience and then to practice it. I wanted him to be the boy that would throw his arm around a buddy having a hard time and give him a shoulder to lean on. I wanted him and his brother to feel the joys of success and to feel the agony of failure. I wanted them to find their way among their peers with a firm base to come home to when those same friends ridiculed them for not following the crowd onto the wide road. Right now, we still find ourselves on a dark, ominous stretch of road leading to adulthood. No still sounds ugly to them. But the light is still there, peering through the cracks in the pavement as they savor their first straight A's and for one, his first defeat in something he thought he was good at. Oddly, they welcome the challenges that come with growing up. One sees failure as an opportunity to try something else...the other sees failure as a chance to try again. They still get angry when No is uttered, but they accept no as a part of life. They don't act as if they are owed anything, but instead act as if they owe something to the world. They have many friends walking the wide road. Sometimes, they watch as their friends get the most expensive clothes and attend co-ed sleepovers. They often want what their friends have but stop short of asking for those things because they too, are catching a glimpse of what lies at the end of the wide road. And they don't want it. For us, the trials of the teenage years will begin on Sunday as the Big Guy turns 13. He didn't ask for anything different than any other boy standing on the cusp of puberty. But when he heard us quietly discussing his party this week and my desire to get him the fancy decorated store bought cake he loves, he entered the room, plopped himself on our bed and said, "Hey, let's not do the bowling party or a round at Golf-N-Stuff. Would it be ok I just asked some of my friends over for pizza and a movie? And Mom, you don't have to order a cake, baking one is cheaper and I'll help." Because he understood what effort goes into parenting, because he understood how hard it's been to tell him no when we wanted so much to press the Easy button and tell him yes, he'll get the pizza party and the movie with his friends. And he'll get the store-bought cake. The narrow road that starts when they are toddlers looks scary to those just embarking on it. But, the treasure at the end is worth the journey. © 2005 Tara Floyd