Yesterday morning, Robbie slid off the edge of my bed, trying to climb in. He looked up at me and said, “Sowwy!” A little later, he stumbled over the threshold: “Sowwy!” After church he was playing and I heard someone say, “Oh, how cute! He said sorry when he fell down.”

Hmmm. Apologies are important, and necessary, and most people don’t offer them enough and do a sloppy job of them. Saying “my bad” doesn’t count. But over-apologizing is another beastie. Why is Robbie saying sorry for everything? Because he hears his Mommy saying sorry for everything. Why does his Mommy say sorry for everything? She’s not sure.

Low self-esteem? Southern courtesy? Overly developed sense of propriety?

I don’t really know, and intense self-analysis is usually a waste of my time. For some reason or for many reasons, I apologize for things that are beyond my control. I apologize when I feel uncomfortable, when I’m sympathizing, when I’m uncertain. I say I’m sorry when I should say excuse me. I say I’m sorry when I should be silent.

And here it is coming from my little boy’s lips. He’s smiling. He’s not upset. He’s just saying “Sowwy” a lot these days. Children are the mirrors of our personalities, our quirks, our habits. Whatever we throw out there they soak up and reproduce in some form. All of a sudden I feel like a bug pinned on the microscope. I don’t know much about my ugly insides, but they are about to be displayed and there’s nothing I can do about it. Except cringe. And say, “Sorry.”