Don't worry that children never listen to you; worry that they are always watching you.
Children have never been very good at listening to their elders, but they have never failed to imitate them.
There are no perfect parents, and there are no perfect children, but there are plenty of perfect moments along the way.
There are only two lasting bequests we can hope to give our children. One of these is roots, the other, wings.
We can no more create the perfect environment for our children than we can create perfect children.
A conscious parent is not one who seeks to fix her child or seek to produce or create the 'perfect' child. This is not about perfection. The conscious parent understands that is journey has been undertaken, this child has been called forth to 'raise the parent' itself. To show the parent where the parent has yet to grow. This is why we call our children into our lives.
And Grandmother Hall really imagines that she can raise Eleanor and her two brothers differently than these children were raised. And if she is very strict and everything is very regimented and ordered and disciplined, that they will become the perfect children who her own children did not become.
It's okay that your parents aren't perfect; no one's are. And it's okay that they didn't have any perfect children either; no one's are. You see, our whole purpose is to strive together in righteousness, overcoming our weaknesses day by day. Don't ever give up on each other.
You can't do it all. No one can have two full-time jobs, have perfect children and cook three meals and be multi-orgasmic 'til dawn ... Superwoman is the adversary of the women's movement.
I want to be the perfect child. I owe so much to my parents and the way I was brought up.
My kids are supposed to live till they are one hundred. You don't have to have a perfect house or a perfect relationship with your child or a perfect child, and you yourself do not have to be perfect.
I find the term perfect child to be an oxymoron.
The Lord may want to colonise other Worlds with His new perfect children! What's the whole Universe for and all this huge amount of space if He's only interested in colonising one little Planet? What an incubation! What an incubator for other civilizations!-Right here on the New Earth and the Heavenly City!
More than anything else I recall being, or trying very deliberately to be, a perfect child. Not a Goody Two-shoes, but a kid who did good, who worked hard and met every expectation. I strove to achieve in the excessive way that psychotherapists tend to regard with concern.
Families were never what you wanted them to be. We all wanted what we couldn't have: the perfect child, the doting husband, the mother who wouldn't let go. We live in our grown-up dollhouses completely unaware that, at any moment, a hand might come in and change around everything we'd become accustomed to.
When I was young, my favorite picture book was 'Fletcher and Zenobia,' written by Edward Gorey and illustrated by Victoria Chess. It's long out of print now, but its mix of macabre humor and 1960s psychedelia made it a perfect children's book for the times.
Kind 'Guardian' readers have been forwarding me round robin Christmas newsletters for years now: lengthy missives full of perfect children, exotic holidays, talented pets and endless, tedious detail. The notes that accompanied them revealed they had inspired in the original recipients everything from mild irritation to absolute rage.
A lot of times I play the villain or the comic relief, and I get to kind of play the comic relief to a degree, which is fun, but I also get to say, "You are created in the image in God. You are a perfect child of God. And this part of you is the heart of who you are. You're not alone, and you're okay just the way you are."
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