Two beautiful Christmas celebrations formed the book ends of my Christmas Day, 2009. Both were with family; one mine, one a friend’s. Each gathering included traditional Christmas rituals of opening presents, engaging in interesting conversations, and eating delicious food.

It was the time between the two delightful get-togethers that intrigued me the most. As I drove the 120 miles from one home to the other, traffic was light and roads clear. An uneventful trip was reaching its conclusion as I stopped to get gas and use the restroom a few miles from my destination.

As I looked around the convenience store for a sign that would point towards the restroom, a trucker informed me it was outside. I asked the attendant for a key and was told that it was open and no key was necessary. The restroom, to put it mildly, was in need of attention. The worst of this extremely unpleasant situation involved the toilet bowl. It had been filled with paper towels, rendering the apparatus unusable.

When I informed the cashier about the situation he rolled his eyes and uttered a swear word. Attempting to show some empathy for the man’s plight, I said, “I don’t understand people that leave public places in that condition.” Then I added, “It seems like a case that goes beyond poor manners,” as I handed him a $20 bill to pay for the snack I was purchasing. He was making change when he reacted verbally to my comment. Because he was looking into his cash drawer, when he spoke, he didn’t see my jaw drop in response to his remark. “Yeah,” he said. “if they would just let us beat our kids, this kind of thing would be eliminated.”

Wow! Where did that come from? Merry Christmas! Stunned by the unexpected response, I was slow to react. The act of re-counting my change gave me time to regroup and get clear about what I wanted to say in response. “What if it was an adult that did it?” I questioned. “Who would you suggest beat that person?”

He gave me a quizzical look indicating my remark had gone over his head. So I wished him a Merry Christmas and went in search of a gas station where people get to beat their kids regularly so it stays clean. I found one a few miles away and was relieved to see no kids getting beaten on Christmas Day.

I am thankful this morning that I have been around several parents this holiday season who have helped their children learn to be polite without hitting them. I am grateful to those parents who are skilled enough to parent children in enlightened and loving ways even when they or their children are tired, excited, or stressed. Those children know they are loved. And so does their grandpa.

Chick Moorman