SJM: It’s better to receive than give…when you’re five

My daughter has a strange attachment to things. It startles me whenever it rears its adorable (nothing she does is ugly) head.

Since my daughter was born, we’ve been both the recipients and givers of many clothes to and from many different homes. It’s a karma-based system whereby you may not be giving hand-me-downs to the same family you get them from.

My little princess is always ecstatic to open up these boxes or garbage bags of fashion treasures. You never know what they’ll hold. We’ve scored purple printed rubber boots, sparkly blue jeans with little crowns on the back pockets, a pink fuzzy sweater and more.

But when it comes time to gather up her too-small stuff, there are tears. OMG, there are tears! I’ve resorted to sneaking these packages out of the house to avoid the guaranteed argument - the pathetic demonstration of how something still fits…with her belly hanging out or her ankles in full view.                                                                                              "Nothing says love like hand-me-down rubber boots."

This perplexes me so much because I think of myself as very unattached to stuff. If someone says they like the chunky ring my finger or the scarf around my neck, I’ll take it off and give it to them. Mostly just to freak ‘em out.

So how did I raise a child so willing to receive, but not to give?

Too late to wonder, perhaps. But it’s foolish to let her continue down this path by sneaking her offerings out from under her nose.

That’s why I recently gathered up her cast-offs in a clear plastic bag and propped them up by the front door.

“Why do you get so upset when we give your clothes away?” I asked her. “You get a lot of stuff too, you know.”

“I know, but I really like them, mommy,” she said with lip quivering, eyes tearing. (She really knows how to work this.)

“What do you like about them?”

“Well, I wore that skirt when I was at the lake with grandma and grandpa,” she said. And then she launched into a detailed story of splashing in the water with her grandparents.

A-ha. It’s not the skirt she wants to hold onto. It’s the time she spent with someone she loves in a place she loves. I finally got it.

“You know,” I said. “You can remember that without the skirt. It’s in your brain and your heart and no one can give it away.”

She paused. “Ok mommy,” she said. And she helped me carry the bag out to the car.

Sometimes (rarely), it’s just that easy.

Social Justice Mommy (SJM) Heather Setka is a frequent guest blogger. Heather Setka is a journalist, editor and writer. Her work has appeared nationally on CBC-Radio, and in Metro Canada, Momeo Magazine and the Globe and Mail.  She lives with her daughter in Calgary.