Have you ever paid $2,000 for a chair? Me either. I bet you’ve never ruined a $2,000 chair. Well neither have I. But I almost did. More importantly, I almost ruined a priceless moment over something as insignificant as a chair.
The Herman Miller
I always wanted a Herman Miller office chair, though I never would have bought one. In 2006 they were the best of the best. My dad had just ordered new furniture for his office and — you guessed it — bought Herman Miller chairs. Lucky dog. Of course he didn’t buy them for everyone. I got stuck with the hand-me-down.
In 2008, my dad had to retire. He didn’t need his Herman Miller chairs anymore, so he gave me the best one. It was like a send-off present — “go out into the world and make a business of your own.” I took that chair to my new office and when I sat in it, there were times I felt like a successful entrepreneur, just like I’d always known my dad to be.
The 4-Year-Old With Scissors
In 2010, I left my sweet princess Elizabeth in my office while I went to use the restroom. On my way back I got a phone call. My call lasted longer than it should have.
When I walked back in, she wasn’t sitting in her chair reading books. She was attempting to gather material to make a quilt for her dad. And she was harvesting that material from the coolest chair in the room.
Her scissors had made a good three-inch cut into the mesh back of my inherited Herman Miller chair.
Elizabeth turned to me, smiled, and said: “Look Daddy.”
In a split second my face went red. I could feel the heat rising from my neck all the way to the top of my head. My muscles tightened. All I could see was a big gaping hole in the awesome gift my dad had given me. I was beyond angry.
“That’s a Memory”
To this day I don’t know what came over me in that moment. Perhaps it was seeing the sweet innocent face of my daughter hoping for her daddy’s approval. Perhaps it was one of those few seemingly miraculous gifts we get blessed with in life — a guardian angel of sorts, just tilting the scales enough that we’re able to alter the course of our own future for the better.
As I searched for the words to express my contempt, all of these logical thoughts were buzzing through my angry brain: She didn’t set out to ruin my chair. She wants nothing more than to make her daddy proud. She’s 4 years old. She has the attention span of a young squirrel and the imagination of a children’s book author. It isn’t her fault. It’s mine. I walked away. I left her with scissors and really cool mesh fabric.
When I opened my mouth I fully expected some pretty harsh words to escape. But what came out was:
“That’s a memory!” I blurted out. “Not a pleasant one, Sweet Girl. Quite dreadful. But it’s also quite fantastic — because it involves you.”
It was nearly miraculous that those gracious words found their way to my lips in that moment.
Memory Marks
Pretty much ever since that day, when my kids have made age-reflective honest mistakes, I try to see them as mere memories. Bumping into my truck with their bikes. Throwing the football and leaving a dent. Scratching up the table during a craft. I’ve just called them “memory marks.”
We didn’t keep a messy house and we did take pride in our things. But when accidents happened, I didn’t get uptight. I just knew we’d created another memory that we’d laugh about someday.
To this day, I have kept my Memory Chair in my office. Yes, my professional office where clients come to discuss big important financial decisions. When they ask about the Memory Chair, I tell them the story and do my best to remind them that most mistakes children make are not intentional — and they are still learning.
So give them a break. And while you’re at it — give yourself one too.
Want to read more stories like this? Check out The Day I Became a Father of Three or Take Advantage of the Mundane.
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