Reset: When Expectations Kill the Moment
How one tired 4-year old ruined my perfect parenting moment
The Night Drew Took Over the Lent Circle
Lent started a new experiment in our house.
Which sounded simple when we came up with it.
After dinner we sit in a circle, read a short piece of Scripture for the week, and talk about it.
A couple questions. A little reflection. How the story might show up in our actual lives.
Nothing complicated. Just trying to help the boys listen a little better and think a little deeper.
And honestly… it’s been really good.
You hear things you don’t normally hear in the chaos of a weeknight.
Stories from school. Small worries. Random thoughts that somehow turn into surprisingly honest conversations.
Then Drew got involved.
At first we tried having him play in the other room. But Drew has a radar for when something interesting is happening. Within about thirty seconds he was standing there asking what we were doing.
A few days later he started asking when the circle was starting.
So now he’s in the circle.
And by the time it gets to him… he’s done.
Not a little tired.
Fully cooked.
So instead of reflecting on the passage, Drew launches into stories.
Recess stories. Imaginary friend stories. Stories about animals that may or may not live behind the playground slide.
And the timing is incredible.
Every time someone starts sharing something thoughtful… Drew jumps in with another recess update.
Big eyes. Hands flying everywhere. Knees half standing on the chair.
Somewhere between storytelling and interpretive dance.
Meanwhile in my head I’m imagining one of those beautiful family moments where everyone reflects on truth and character and the dad nods thoughtfully like a deleted scene from Dead Poets Society.
You know… the kind of moment where everyone leaves the table slightly wiser and someone probably quotes something profound.
Reality looks more like a tired four‑year‑old explaining the politics of imaginary playground animals.
And I can feel it happening inside me.
The tightening.
The frustration.
The thought that says:
Come on buddy… stay on topic.
And right about then it hits me.
My expectations are completely out of whack.
When Expectations Kill the Moment
What I wanted was one of those great family moments.
Kids saying thoughtful things. Everyone leaning in.
What we actually had was a tired kid saying weird things while the rest of us tried not to laugh.
Halfway through Drew’s recess speech it clicked.
The circle wasn’t supposed to produce some deep moment.
It was just about spending time together.
Listening a little. Talking a little. Just sitting together long enough for something honest to show up.
And if I really want my boys to learn how to listen, then I probably need to model it — even when the speaker is a four‑year‑old explaining nonsense with absolute confidence.
Sometimes honest looks messy.
Sometimes it sounds like a kid telling a completely unrelated recess story while everyone else waits for him to land the plane.
The problem wasn’t Drew.
The problem was the movie I had playing in my head about how the night was supposed to go.
Why This Actually Works
There’s actually some brain science behind this.
Our brains are constantly building expectations. They’re basically predicting what the next moment should look like. When reality doesn’t match that prediction, the brain treats it like something is wrong.
That’s usually when frustration shows up.
But connection in families almost never grows in perfectly scripted moments.
It grows in repetition.
There are a lot of studies around family rituals that say roughly the same thing: simple rhythms — meals, conversations, shared routines — build emotional security for kids.
Not because every moment is meaningful, but because the pattern becomes trustworthy.
Kids don’t remember the perfect conversation.
They remember that the family keeps showing up.
So the power isn’t in having the perfect circle.
The power is that we keep sitting down together.
Even when Drew is explaining recess politics.
Scripture
There’s a quiet line in Scripture that keeps coming back to me lately:
“Give us this day our daily bread.” — Matthew 6:11
Daily.
Not impressive. Not cinematic. Not perfect.
Daily.
Faith grows that way.
And honestly… so do dads.
My Reset This Week
This week I’m trying something simple.
Lower the expectations for the moment.
When I feel the pressure rising —
The anger.
The frustration.
Ask myself: What am I expecting right now?
Most of the time the answer is the same.
Too much.
So I reset it.
And when the expectation drops, something else shows up.
Calm.
That calm is where connection lives for me and my family.
The calm to not compete for attention.
The calm to protect the new rhythm we’re trying to build.
The calm that teaches them to slow down and really listen to each other.
And if one of those conversations includes a long recess story about imaginary animals…
I need to remind myself that might actually mean we’re doing something right.
Sharing.
Listening.
And maybe learning
slowly
that those ordinary moments are the point.
As long as we can stay calm enough to hear each other.
