Every night at dinner, I ask my kids to tell me what was the best thing about their day, and what was the worst thing.
My daughter often tells me that the worst part was not having a pop quiz. Which is followed by me thinking to myself, “Please, please, please, let her continue to be a freak of nature and LOVE school so much that the most horrible thing she can think of is that she wasn’t challenged enough.” The best part of her day is usually that she did something cool in science class, or that she and her best friend have come up with yet another secret handshake.
My son starts with the worst part of his day, and it always varies. It can be that a friend didn’t share the bike at school, or that he was sad when his sister got hurt at soccer practice, or that he was punished for not listening.
Then I ask him, “What was the BEST part of your day?”
And, without fail, every single night, he will look around the room at all of us, point at the dinner table and say, “This”.