Sticky situations: Lessons learned with a piece of gum

From an event that took place when Reily was in either the 3rd or 4th grade.

Reily was going on a field trip to Houston with her class the next day, and I went into her room to tell her goodnight.

As I was leaving, I noticed a stick of gum hidden under her clothes for the next day on the stairs for her bed.

I asked her what it was, and she told me it was gum to chew on the bus during the field trip.

I asked her why she was hiding it, and she told me that she wasn't supposed to have it on the bus and the teachers had told them not to bring any.

I asked her if she knew why the teachers would tell them not to bring gum on the bus, and she told me that it was because a kid might choke while on the bus or leave their gum under the seat...so she knew the why of the situations, which just left the consequences.

I told her she couldn't take gum because she needed to follow the rules, and I asked her what she thought her punishment should be for trying to sneak it onto the bus.

She came up with her own punishment, and it was far harsher than anything I would've doled out for the same offense.

She didn't think she should ever be able to chew gum again.

That was a bit extreme, so I used it as an opportunity to talk to her about how it's important that the punishment aligns with the crime.

After talking, she decided a month would be appropriate...still a little severe in my mind, but we went with it.

So for one month gum was taken away...and she loved gum.

Even when her grandmother offered her gum, she turned it down. Even when other kids were chewing it, she abstained.

I was proud of her...because in the end, this didn't have a whole lot to do with gum.

It had to do with being honest and obedient. It had to do with following through with the consequences of her actions. It had to do with her becoming a better person by learning a huge life lesson with something as harmless as a stick of gum.

Never ignore the silly offenses. Never belittle the consequences by determining that something really doesn't matter...because it does matter. If I can teach her lessons that have a profound impact and help her avoid dangerous situations later through lessons about a piece of gum...I'll take it every time.

Stillness amidst the chaos

Over the last 37 years, I've seen snow a couple of times...and by snow, I mean that one to two inches of hard, icy stuff we Texans like to call snow.

I've scraped small piles of the white stuff off the hood of a car to make a tiny 11" snowman while bundled up in about five layers of clothing.

But what fell from the sky Thursday night was an anomaly - unexpected bliss amidst the chaos that is the month of December.

It started with a few small flurries floating down from the sky. As each one hit the ground, its short life as a piece of frozen joy dissolved.

But still, it was enough to evoke squeals of delight from children as they left school. It was enough to take silly pictures and cause social media to explode with "it's snowing" posts from across the Brazos Valley.

Then something magical happened.

The snow flurries transformed into snowflakes, and for over an hour, they floated down from the sky, blanketing the landscape in white.

The excitement was palpable across the city as infants and the elderly alike ventured outside to experience the winter wonderland.

The snow was soft and fluffy and burst into powder when a snowball made contact with its target.

For a fleeting moment, there was no thought of YouTube or video games. Bedtimes were ignored, and responsibilities were forgotten. The only thing that remained was joy, wonder, and a sense that everything was perfect, if just for a moment.

As snowballs sailed across the yard and medium-sized snowmen sprang up in several places, I noticed the twinkle in my children's eyes.

It was the kind of twinkle that encapsulated the moment and preserved it forever in my heart. It was the kind of twinkle that let me know that the decision to stay up late to play in the snow was truly the only option.

And the idea of going to bed just to wake up the next morning to a melted dream prevented the kids from giving in to the night.

But finally, we did head inside.

The kids peeled off their snow-soaked clothing, and they tracked tiny water footprints across the living room floor as they got ready for bed.

And just like that, it was over. But it would not be forgotten, because moments like those...where wonder is present...never truly end.