“I don’t want to play this game,” my son tells his sister. “I want to play something else. Your game is stupid.”
My ears perk up: is this going to escalate?
“How about this,” I hear Isabella respond, “First, we’ll play my stupid game, then, we’ll play your stupid game. How’s that?”
Surprisingly, he agrees, and for the next hour or so, they play peacefully, side by side.
Problem solved, and it didn’t even come to blows. How my kids ever solve any of their arguments is anyone’s guess; some days they are as tolerant as can be, at other times they nearly kill each other over the smallest thing. They are as unpredictable as the weather.
When there is someone I don’t get along with at the moment, my response is distance. I’m a little slow returning emails, I don’t answer the phone; I walk to my car a little faster when I see them coming. I am so sorry, but I absolutely can’t make it to dinner this month. Busy, busy. You know, your classic avoidance techniques. Not good, no; but it is what it is. We all have our hang-ups.
My children know nothing of avoidance. They dive in headfirst when there’s a problem: it’s much better to punch, slap, and smite, than to walk away from a conflict. You might miss something. Hence, the biggest punishment I can dole out is to send both children to their respective rooms and tell them not to talk to each other. Of course, no matter how much I try to divide and conquer, they can’t stay away from each other for more than a few minutes.
“But I miss her,” Mendel says in a pathetic voice, five minutes after he’s kicked his sister in the shins. “Can I please play with Isabella?” At which point Isabella, who is nursing a bruise, peeks her head out and promises not to retaliate: a promise she breaks less than ten minutes later. Unless I want to physically position myself in between their bedroom doors, I have to let it go.
Of course, all this is perfectly normal for two siblings, and if I were better at tuning out the constant stream of little blow-ups, I might be a more relaxed parent. Why do I get so upset at them anyway? Bickering is a normal part of growing up; it’s not as if my own siblings and I always got along so swimmingly. Yet, we survived into adulthood, and what’s more: we’re all still talking to each other.
So that’s what I’ll do: when they snap at each other and deal out the occasional beating (a piece of Lego to the head is quite effective if you want to win an argument with your older sister, by the way) I’ll just think of it as a necessary developmental stage. It'll be my own private 'stupid game'. I think the phrase “This is Normal!” makes for a really decent mantra, anyway.
If you enjoyed this article, you may also like
Catch your own Thanksgiving turkey,
Comments