On the way to school this morning.
Adam: I think I’m too soft.
Me: Why do you think that?
My first thought is that this is a conversation about weight. To my surprise, it was about generosity, selfhood, and the kind of person you want to be in the world.
A bit tearfully, Adam, now 10, explained that yesterday in the park after school he gave away three candies to friends and didn’t have any left for himself. Why? Because, as he described it, once they saw his candy, they were like a “wolf pack” and he felt too much pressure to not give in.
The memory was still upsetting to him, and on the way to school I wish I had dwelled more on his pain before shifting to future strategies. But my initial response moved quickly to the question of how he’d like to handle a similar situation next time. Without much contemplation, he gave me the “is-this-the-right-answer?” look, and said that next time he’d just say “no” to everyone.
This time I paused before responding.
I’m not sure what I would have said two months ago, but I do wonder how similar it would have been to my actual response this morning. The potential difference? A few weeks ago I heard a Wharton Business professor, Adam Grant, speak at Thrive and his ideas about generosity and success have since been top of my mind at work and at home. I’ve been sharing his key ideas with friends and colleagues. I’ve also started his book, called, Give and Take: A Revolutionary Approach to Success, and have been recommending that too. For an introduction to Grant’s work, I recommend that you sample some of his talks and interviews across various platforms including Ted Talks and the “Today Show.” I haven’t screened it myself, but the full chat of his author interview at Google sounds very promising as well.
Now back to my Adam. I told him that I love his generous spirit, and I would never want him to quash that—just the opposite. So, no, I don’t think the answer is for him to stop sharing his candy.
But in a way I hope was clear enough, I tried to explain that I also didn’t think it was a good idea to be so generous that it hurts, that it makes him feel bad. I’d rather, next time, that he try to do both: be generous to others but also take care of himself. I was explicit that I felt that he should keep at least one piece for himself–and feel good about that.
I suggested that his friends might actually have even more respect for the kid who clearly stands up for himself but is also generous to others; that he doesn’t have be “soft” to be well-liked.
He thought about it, maybe for a second or two, and probably also thought about getting to the school yard and having some time with his “wolf pack” before the start of school.
“Can we talk about this again in 20 years?” he asked.
“Sure.”
Eric Messinger is the editor of New York Family. He can be reached at [email protected].
