The pursuit of imperfection

The perfect son forgot his homework today.  As I told him he would when he declined to put it away last night, but we don’t mention that. 

He has decided that he must be the perfect son, because he came after his brother.  If his brother had been perfect, there wouldn’t have been a second, and because there is no third, the second must be perfect.  To his mathematical mind, this is a logical conclusion.  Shame perfection doesn’t extend to remembering things.

Most weeks there is a panic phonecall from school.

Jamie:       I left my sports kit at home, can you bring it?

Me:            No

Jamie:       I left my food tech in the car, can you bring it?

Me:            It was beside you in a bright green bag.  How could you miss it?

Jamie:       Can you bring it?

Me:            No

Jamie:       I left my English essay at home, can you bring it?

Me:            No

Jamie:       It’s the third time and I’ll get a detention

Me:            So start remembering

The books tell me that if I always say No, it will do him more good in the long run and he will remember next time.  Ten school years later, this advice has consolidated his position of always in trouble and I feel like an ogre.  For the perfect child (who actually does try hard), this isn’t fair.

It’s only helped by the imperfect child who never forgets and corrects my failings

Daniel:       Don’t you need to hand in your form today, Jamie?

Jamie:       Mum, can you sign this?

Daniel:       Have you got your lunch box?

Jamie:       No.  Hang on Mum, you need to unlock the door again

Daniel:       Is it Basketball tonight?

Jamie:       Stop the car!  I’ve forgotten my trainers

So the imperfect child who has enough confidence not to care about other’s opinions is always being praised.  Whilst the perfect child who cares desperately about doing well, thinks himself a numpty and the cycle continues.

Why is it so much easier to see the problem than fix it?