Just wait until your dad comes home

Have a seat.

It’s one of those things I swore I’d never say to my children. It’s not as if I can’t deal with their behaviors myself; besides, I’m the heavy around here. Whatever my husband has to say when he gets home doesn’t hold a candle to the tongue-lashing I can hand out when I’m in the mood. Plus, the phrase “just wait until your father gets home” is reminiscent of angry and distant men, who use their belts to beat some sense into their children. Those days are over, thank god.

I changed my mind when my husband decided to get his therapist’s license, and subsequently went to work as a child-therapist. Speaking of an ‘aha-moment’: a couch session with your dad instead of a regular time-out and a stiff talking to, now there’s a respectable punishment.
On top of that, it’s free.

Isabella doesn’t think of it as punishment: she calls it ‘playing therapist’. She has her favorite couch and her own notepad. She takes it very seriously, and even answers questions without using cop-outs like “I forgot” and “it was an accident”. She puts on her thinking face, which is extremely convincing to everyone in the room.
If, as an adult, she ever needs to go to therapy for real, she’ll play him or her like a harp.

During her latest session, my husband talked to her about honesty, brought on by Isabella spilling her drink and subsequently blaming her brother. The conversation went something like this:

Dad: “So, Isabella, tell me what happened.”
(Isabella scribbles on notepad)
Dad: “Isabella?”
Isabella: “Yes? What?” (Looks disturbed)
Dad: “Tell me what happened today.”
Isabella: “I need to write something down first.”
Dad: “Why don’t you put the notepad away for now? Let’s talk.”
Isabella: “I’m almost done.”
Dad: (sighs) “Isabella.”
Isabella: “Ye-es. Hold on.” (Puts notepad down)
Dad: “Are you ready?”
Isabella: “Yes.”
Dad: “Can you tell me what happened today?”
Isabella: “When?”
Dad: “At dinner.”
Isabella: “What happened at dinner?”
Dad: “That’s what I’m asking you.”
Isabella: “You mean today? Or yesterday?”
Dad: “Today.”
Isabella: “Oh. We had pancakes.”
Dad: “That’s not what I mean. I’m not asking what you ate.”
Isabella: “But they were really good.”
Dad: “I’m sure they were good.”
Isabella: “I had two. They were that good.”
Dad: “I’m glad. Now tell me what happened with your drink.”
Isabella: “I spilled it, and then I blamed my brother.”
Dad: “That’s not nice. You shouldn’t lie.”
Isabella: “Okay.”
Dad: “Glad we had this talk.”
Isabella: “You want to see my notes?”

As you can see, these sessions are extremely useful. Come to think of it, you might not need a therapy license to have these sit-downs with your child. I think anyone with the proper motivation can do it, and everyone benefits from it. Especially if you’re like me, doubled over with laughter, eaves dropping from another room.