I had one of those "No, Duh" moments last week.  It was about -- of all things -- parenting.

My younger daughter was asked to be part of a new local opera company's production of Gianni Schicchi (a new libretto updated to take place in 1960s South Philly).  She was very excited.  She only sang five words, but she was on stage the entire time.  Her role was Little Jerry, the little boy related to the extended family that had come to a senior family member's deathbed.

Basically, Little Jerry's role was to be a pest or to be off playing by himself, oblivious to the comic drama going on around him as the relatives plotted how to change the will to their benefit.  

She transformed into a little boy in cargo shorts, a stripped shirt, and with her really long bangs pulled back and the rest of her hair tied up with a ponytail, then the end of the ponytail pulled forward to make little pointy bangs, all topped by a backward baseball hat.  (She designed the look herself).  We stuffed the cargo shorts pockets with cars, baseball cards, a slinky, silly putty, a whoopee cushion, a paper airplane, jacks, marbles, a ball on a string that bounced back -- she was quite weighed down.  Then she was let loose to do her thing.

Because her "performance" was sort of organic -- just natural kid reactions and actions -- she was really not coached other than with a few specific interactions that were part of the plot (including those five words).  At the beginning, she was a little at a loss for what to do at those extended times.  During practice, my husband and I found ourselves helping her along if she glanced our way and seemed to have run out of ideas.  We grimaced, yawned, smiled, pantomimed toys and actions to use, and she modeled her behavior after our (wordless) suggestions.

(Let me take a moment to reassure you, in case you are wondering, that we are not monster stage parents.  Really and truly)!

My "No, Duh" came as I was sitting in the shadows at dress rehearsal -- that we really were her "role models."  With our actions, we were showing her how to act in certain situations.  And in this instance, it was clear that showing was much easier for her learning than telling.

Our children turn to us to see how we act, so if we want them to act in a certain way, shouldn't we be acting that way, too?  

Or, if we don't want them to act in a certain way, we should not act that way, either?  Because they'll be watching and copying what we do, you can bet on it.

The subliminal message we send can be just as, if not more, powerful than the verbal lessons we teach, just something for we parents to remember.

Oh, and in case you were wondering, the whoopee cushion was a big crowd-pleaser!