The piece is based on some reading we did on a Philosopher named Seneca, all you need to know about him to read this is that he thought frustration was a pretty harmful emotion and tried to convince people to avoid it.
hope you like it.
Seneca Never Knew My Son
Seneca’s philosophy teaches us that to avoid frustration “we must reconcile ourselves to the necessary imperfectability of existence” (De Botton 82). Certainly humankind, an angry collection of creatures, would do well to heed this advice. I know I could advance my own cause by recognizing situations I can and cannot change with equal amounts of serenity and acceptance. Seneca may have been on to something, but then again he probably didn’t have as much physical contact with poop as I do.
Potty training a two year old is the most frustrating task ever conceived by man. Period. I admit I am prone to frustration, but never the less, cleaning up puddles of pee and scrubbing poop out of clothing is the most unjust form of punishment ever created. Fortune has given me Sullivan, a child with a pleasant demeanor, intelligence and behaviors that fill me with pride. Except that he pees and defecates everywhere but the toilet and seems baffled that I would aspire for anything more for him. It’s a clear example of injustice. Both my son and the universe are mocking me to the point of infuriation.
If I applied Seneca’s philosophy I would realize that I am “denying the necessary and wishing for the impossible” (De Botton 109). I would conclude that Sullivan’s capacity to control his bodily fluids is still developing. Sometimes he is unaware that he needs to go, sometime he’s too busy to get to the bathroom. I convince myself that my sweet, loving son mocks me and is so nefarious that he enjoys the idea of me cleaning up his atrocities. Instead, I should realize this is something I cannot change and accept it.
Seneca realized “that wisdom lies in correctly discerning where we are free to mould reality according to our wishes and where we must accept the unalterable with tranquility” (De Botton 107). I would do well to consider this as I scrub poop from clothing, or fret about Sullivan having enough clean underpants (that he will inevitably poop in) to get through the day. I might even find a sort of tranquil peace in soaking up puddles of urine and sanitizing toys that have been disgraced. Ultimately I need to realize that my anger is not “from an incontrollable eruption of passions, but from a basic and (correctable) error of reasoning” (De Botton 82). Sullivan does not use the potty every time because he is not ready to, not because of divine retribution, or as a mocking of my parenting skills. I will probably manage this kind of maturity and wisdom as soon as this messy business is over. Now if you will excuse me, I have laundry to do.
De Boton, Alain. The Consolations of Philosophy.
New York: Vintage Books, 2000. 56-59
