Work Hard, Play Hard

In five and a half weeks I'll be going back to school after nearly eight-and-a-half years as a stay-at-home parent. To say I'm a bit nervous would be an understatement. Fears of child delinquency and domestic chaos are not unfounded and I'm doing my damnedest to get prepared. Here's my first solution: the tidy up check list.

Materials: two sheets of paper and an envelope, a colour printer, word-processing software, access to a laminator, packing tape, and about two meters of velcro.

I've made a separate laminated tag for virtually every category of item found in my children's rooms. They attach to a support page by two long strips of velcro. The envelope is attached to the support page by packing tape.

Putting the system to work:

PARENT: Let's take a look around your room and see what needs to be done.

CHILD: Soft toys, books, clothes and my bed.

(CHILD takes the necessary tags from the Done! envelope and places them on the board.)

PARENT: Don't forget the dolls in the bathroom.

CHILD: Oh, yeah.

(CHILD takes the Dolls tag from the envelope and places it on the board)

PARENT: What do you want to start with?

CHILD: The soft toys.

PARENT: Sounds good. I'll be back in five minutes to help.

(Five minutes pass. PARENT returns. CHILD is nearly finished. All but one tag is left on the board, the rest having been returned to the Done! envelope by CHILD. )

PARENT: Wow, I can see your carpet. Great job! Can I help with your bed?

CHILD: Sure!

So far it's worked amazingly well. Mouse often overwhelms herself with her capacity for chaos, so a task list makes things less daunting. Emma likes it, too, and has taken great pride in making her bed, a task she was never obliged to complete. Assuming we keep up with it, not only will the house be more organized, but also the girls will be sure to get the recognition they deserve.

Make your own:

Download your free tag template here.

Download your free support page here.

TCP Book Club: Your Defiant Child (Part 2)

It's taken nearly six weeks, but I've finally completed Your Defiant Child. When I last wrote, I was about to venture into the book's second half: an eight step, eight week program meant to restore a loving, respectful relationship between parent and child. As this wasn't my first book on parenting, I was curious to learn if Barkley and Benton's recommendations were much different from other parenting books. Here's how the eight steps play out:

Step 1: Pay attention

In the first week, schedule multiple fifteen to 20-minute periods with your child and allow him or her to take the lead. The rules: no directions, no questions, and only the most judicious us of praise. This step is to help heal the wounds caused by months or potentially years of seemingly endless confrontation.

Step 2: Get Peace and Cooperation with Praise

Catch your child doing something right and tell them so, even if it means stopping mid conversation to thank them for not interrupting.

Step 3: When Praise is not Enough, Offer Rewards

Reward desired behaviour with a system of points or chips which can later be cashed in for privileges like TV, computer time, or a special purchase. This step may be temporary necessity if your child's drive for what he or she wants 'here and now' is exceedingly strong. On the other hand, it may be a permanent requirement if your child suffers from an attention deficit or oppositional disorder.

Step 4: Use Mild Discipline

The top one or two unwanted behaviours result in the deduction of chips (or points) and/or time-out.

Step 5: Use Time-Out with other Misbehaviour

Expand the use of step 4 to another one or two behaviours.

Step 6: Think Aloud and Think Ahead: What to Do in Public

By communicating expectations and rules ahead of time you can take your new parent-child relationship on the road.

Step 7: Help the Teacher Help Your Child

Daily behaviour report cards can help influence your child's success at school.

Step 8: Moving Toward a Brighter Future

This chapter discusses how one might continue to use the system over time.

For the most part, I found this method compelling: it's progressive, logical and based on the clinical experience and knowledge of Dr. Barkley, a clinical psychologist. The point at which I fear a great deal of parents might abandon the program is during Step 3: rewarding good behaviour. Keeping track of points or chips and dolling out privileges only when earned demands discipline. It is by far the most labour-intensive step and is potentially where a more spontaneous and less structured parent might let the plan fall by the wayside.

Your Defiant Child does not have the easy readability or simplicity of How to Talk So Kids Will Listen & Listen So Kids Will Talk by Faber & Mazlish whose book focusses on much the same techniques discussed in Steps 1 an 2. That said, Your Defiant Child is geared toward the tougher end of the child-parent spectrum where carefully chosen words and concerted listening may not be enough.

Good Words

"I'm frustrated because you won't stop bothering me and I've asked you THREE times!"

We were driving from the second mattress store of the day to the third when Emma said this to Mouse. Obviously, the two weren't getting along but what I was hearing gave me pause, in a positive sense. Emma's voice was firm, not whiny, and she was speaking to her sister, not complaining to me.

"Good words, Emma," I said.

In the back seat Emma's frown relaxed, validation smoothing the creases. Mouse, on her part, backed off and peace settled over the valley... for about five minutes.

How often do we ask kids to stop fighting without teaching them how to negotiate? Likely too often, and I am no innocent in this. It's far easier to fire off rules like 'no hitting' than it is to delve into why a child felt compelled to slug her best friend. Emma and Mouse argue. They've even been known to push, pull, snatch, scratch, and bite when the spirit moves them. But they are also being taught to negotiate and, given enough reinforcement, will eventually gain independence--I hope. So far the trend looks good. You be the judge.

That's Mine, This is Yours:

A Play in Infinite Acts

(for our purposes I'll keep it to two)

Act 1: Let's Share

Scene 1

EMMA, age 3; MOUSE, age 1. EMMA is playing with toy blocks. She puts one down while searching for another of a different colour. When she reaches back for it she sees MOUSE has picked it up.

EMMA: Hey!

EMMA snatches the block from MOUSE. MOUSE howls.

When that doesn't work she bites EMMA on the leg. EMMA howls.

Scene 2

Hours later...

EMMA is playing blocks again. MOUSE joins her. EMMA quickly moves the blocks out of reach.

MIGHTY MOM: Mouse, do you want to play blocks, too?
MOUSE nods.
MOM: Say, 'Emma, can I play, too?'

MOUSE: (to EMMA) Me, too?

EMMA gives MOUSE three of at least a hundred blocks. MOUSE is happy.

MOM: (to MOUSE) Say thank you.

MOUSE: Tanko.

EMMA: You're welcome.

Act 2: My Turn

Scene 1

EMMA, age 5; MOUSE, age 3.

EMMA enters the kitchen from outside.

EMMA: Mouse won't let me play on the swing.(Rough translation: Make Mouse give me a turn before I clock her one.)
MOM: She's allowed to have a turn, Emma.
EMMA: But she's not even swinging. She's using it for Pink Bear's bed.
MOM: How about we put on the timer for five minutes. When it goes off, it will be your turn.
EMMA: Okay.
EMMA walks back into the yard with the timer in hand. When it finally goes off, neither girl nor bear is using the swing.

Scene 2

Later that day, in the bathroom, after the bath.

MOUSE is combing her hair — poorly.

EMMA is still in the tub.

MOM: (reaching for the comb) How about you give Mommy a turn, chickadee?
MOUSE: (turning away) No. Me do it.
MOM: You've done it long enough. It's Mommy's turn now.
MOUSE: NO!
EMMA: Maybe you should get the timer, Mommy. I think it's by the slide.

Check-in

We were heading out on a short road trip in just a few hours. So to circumvent any last minute packing offenses, I called the girls to the kitchen table so we could compose a list of all needed items for a two-night excursion. Emma the Brave, then seven, spoke up first.

"We'll need pajamas and two day-time outfits."

"And toys," added Mouse.

I reminded them that daytime outfits must include socks and underwear and gave Mouse a knowing look. She giggled. "What else?"

"A night light." This was Emma.

"And toys," said Mouse.

With a little coaching they finally rattled off such inessentials like toothbrushes and toothpaste, dog food and bowls, toques, scarves, gloves, water bottles and rain gear.

"But then we won't have room for any toys!" Mouse cried.

"We'll see," I assured her, then sent them off to pack--or, rather, repack.

Ten minutes later the pair arrived at check-in, conveniently located in the kitchen. Emma was first, wheeling her Winnie the Pooh suitcase to the spot on the floor in front of me. In the crook of her arm she carried her one permitted carry-on--her favourite stuffed bear. Quick inspection revealed everything was in order. Not only had she managed to include all required items, but also a blanket, two notebooks, a pen, and four small soft toys. Next up was Mouse.

Immediately I sensed trouble. Mouse's suitcase bulged so much that Piglet's stomach looked like something out of Alien. To make matters worse, over its handle were three small hand bags, all stuffed to capacity. Without a word, I broke out the list.

"Pajamas? Check. Two day-time outfits? Check and check." Together we went down the list, unearthing her essentials from an assortment of nine soft toys, a deck of playing cards, 2 blankets, two journals and a pen. Calmly, I suggested we scale back on the toys, leaving behind the heaviest ones, and keeping it to one small blanket so her bag would close without difficulty. "But no handbags, Mouse. Sorry."

I waited. Historically speaking, a wail was imminent.

Mouse looked pensively down at her handbags. "Okay, Mommy," she said, then carried the bags and four of her soft toys back to her room. I almost fell out of my check-in chair. When she came back, I had her roll her suitcase to the loading zone a.k.a. the dining room. "No touching your bag until we go. Got it, Short Stuff?"

She smiled up at me. "Got it!"

Yes, I think she has.

Summer Word Search with a Twist

Summer holidays are upon us already here in Illinois and with them come the inevitable words: I'm bored. To give my girls credit, they have fantastic imaginations that keep them easily entertained for hours. But then comes a lull when they either run out of ideas or can't agree on one. That's when they come looking for me. "Mommm-my?"

I am happy to say that one day this week I was prepared. Using my word processing software I'd made a grid and created a word search based on one of their favorite stories, Purple, Green and Yellow by Robert Munsch.

Once they'd solved it, I handed them a blank grid of their own. It was time for them to make a word search for me and the Captain. Needless to say, I think they enjoyed this task better. Here are some of their creations:

Now it's my turn to make new word searches for them. Speaking of which, I'd better get to work.

If you would like to join in the fun, download a grid here or make your own. Keep in mind that words written horizontally left-to-right are the easiest, then vertically top-to-bottom. Save diagonals and reverse spellings for strong readers. Most of all, enjoy!

TCP Book Club: Your Defiant Child — 8 Steps to Better Behavior by Russell A Barkley, PhD and Christine M. Benton (Part 1)

defiance |di'fiəns|

noun

DEFINITION: open resistance; bold disobedience; 

SYNONYMS: opposition, noncompliance, disobedience, insubordination, dissent, recalcitrance, subversion, rebellion; contempt, disregard, scorn, insolence. 

ANTONYMS: obedience, compliance.

A confession: defiant behavior is my hot button.  At home it makes me want to toss out punishments faster than a baseball pitching machine set on high.  In the classroom, the potential for utter frustration is even greater: imagine managing a defiant child before 22 sets of impressionable eyes.  Add to this a defiant child's sudden, irrational, and sometimes violent tendencies, it's no wonder that developing this portion of my parental toolbox is not only of personal interest, but essential.

Your Defiant Child, written by child psychologist Dr. Russell A. Barkley and Christine M. Benton, begins by assuring parents that they are not alone. Some children are more prone to defiance than others and there might not be anything intrinsically wrong with them. Parents are encouraged to complete a survey that helps distinguish 'difficult' children from those with a diagnosable disorder.  The authors then go on to explain what predisposes a child to exhibit oppositional behavior: the child's character, the caregiver's character, the historical interaction between the two, and the family environment.  Here are my top five take-aways from Part One:

1. Defiant behavior that lasts less than six months is considered within the bounds of normal.
2. Boys are more prone to oppositional behavior and it is typical that a child will exhibit this behavior more often with the primary caregiver.
3. That said, if it is impairing your child's ability to function at an age-appropriate level or causing you or your child undue distress, it's time to take action. 
4. Severe behavior with multiple contributing factors (including ADHD and other disorders) may require professional help to achieve a successful outcome. 
5. Following a set of basic parenting principles (outlined in Part Two) can significantly improve family life regardless of the starting point.

At this point I'm interested in knowing how different this book's eight steps are from the advice recommended in How to Talk So Kids Will Listen & Listen So Kids Will Talk by Faber and Mazlish.  One way or another, I'll let you know.

Money Matters Part 2: The Value of Coins

"It's not fair. She has more than me."

The girls have just received their Swiss allowance. Emma the Brave wanted coins of all different denominations; Mighty Mouse chose all nickels. The result is that Emma has only six coins while Mouse has ten.

"She has more coins than you, not more money."

"I don't understand."

I explain to Emma that Mouse's coins are worth less and that's why she has more. "You actually have more money than she does. See?" I show her the bank books.

She studies them then looks back up at me and blinks. "I still don't understand."

Oh boy.

"Tell you what, you go play while I make something that will help you understand."

"Can I watch?"

"Uh...no."

Ten minutes later I call her back and show her a handmade version of this:

We place a coin of each respective denomination on every square: a 50 centimes piece takes up half the page; a nickel, only one twentieth. The ten and and 20 centimes pieces fall in between. We count by 5's, 10's and 20's, all the way up to 100 centimes or one franc, her weekly allowance.

"Now do you understand?"

"Yep... Next week I want all 5's."

"You got it."

Want to give my tool a try? Download your own copy here:

Money Matters Canada/USA

Money Matters Switzerland

Money Matters Euro

Missed Part 1? Read it here.

Money Matters Part 1: In the beginning...

It was bedtime one night during our ski holiday when The Captain shared this childhood story with the girls:

"When I was a little boy, I used buy lots of candy with my allowance. When my mom would ask if I had brushed my teeth, I would say I did, but I really hadn't."

"You told a lie?" Mighty Mouse asked, wide-eyed. Emma the Brave, considerably less awestruck by this misdemeanor, rolled on to her side and yawned.

"Yes, I told a lie. But you know what? The joke was on me, because when I went to the dentist, he found lots of cavities."

The story concluded with the Captain's yet-to-be-surpassed imitation of a dentist's drill. The moral: brush your teeth or the dentist will get you, that is, if your mother doesn't get you first. It might not be the best bedtime send-off, but his intentions were good.

The next morning Emma was atypically quiet over her bowl of Cheerios. She'd just about finished when out popped the question: "What's an allowance?"

And that is how the proverbial cat got out of the bag--not a bad cat, not even an ugly one, but one with claws, nonetheless.

I firmly believe it is within the parental domain to teach children money management. My parents--both accountants in their own rights--believed so, too, and trained me from an early age to be cash wise and debt wary. I fully intended to implement an allowance at some point, it was just a question of when. With the topic purring sedately at my feet, there was no time like the present.

A few nights later, it was decided. Emma the Brave would receive one franc per week and Madelaine, 50 centimes. We debated as to whether to give Mighty Mouse anything at all--she is only five. But practicality won out: 2 years x 52 weeks x approximately 12 purchases by older sibling = more opportunities to cry and whine than we parents were prepared to endure. Emma hasn't yet clued into the fact that she's missed out on two years potential income. When she does, I'm sure we'll hear about it. Until then, we'll enjoy relative bliss for the mere weekly price of a lolly.

So, for five weeks the girls saved their centimes in new ceramic cat banks bought especially for the occasion. For five weeks, I wrote down their deposits in their 'bank book.' For five weeks, Emma never once forgot to ask for her balance. Then, this past Monday, we needed eggs. We weren't in the store five seconds before they asked, "Can we buy a toy?"

It was a moment I didn't know I'd been waiting for. "No, I'm not going to buy a toy. But you can."

It took almost ten full minutes in the minuscule toy aisle of the Migros for them to decide. They studied price tags like they'd never done before. The decimal point threw them for a minute, but they quickly overcame.

"Look at this one."

"Cool. What about this one?"

"Nah, too expensive."

Were those angels singing?

With their planned purchases in hand, they practically floated to the check out. Emma the Brave had settled on a black Mustang GT and Mighty Mouse, in a clear act of older sibling hero worship, chose a white motorcycle with First Aid emblazoned in red on the side. At home, they paid me from their banks and we balanced the books.

All in all, it was a success...until next month or a trip to the dentist, which ever comes first.

It's Time

Flash Back to October 2008: 

Historically speaking, Mouse and I have always struggled with time-limited transitions. Once engaged in an activity she enjoys, Mouse fights redirection harder than a drunk in a conga line. Requests to come to the table or to get ready to leave for school have been known to either fall on deaf ears or be met with ear-splitting rage. Most of the time, it's the former; lately it's the latter.

For both our sakes I've invoked the marble jars: a full one for me; an empty one for her. Every time she pleasantly stops what she's doing to do something that must happen immediately, a marble moves from my jar to hers. Once her jar is full, she's decided we'll all go to Parc de la Grange, a park in the city, for an afternoon snack and play.

Twenty-four hours in, we've both made excellent progress. Mouse is getting credit for all her pleasant transitions, even those that may have gone unrecognized in the past. I figure that in a week I will have lost all my marbles. Better figuratively than literally!

Now, I wonder if this would work on the Captain?

Two weeks later...

It's been an interesting almost two weeks and I'm down to 16 marbles from 45--excellent progress considering we've just come off of a week's holiday with few, if any, time constraints. The words, 'supper's ready,' are now consistently followed by a singsong-y, "Okay, Mommy!" from Mouse. That's not to say she immediately drops what she's doing, but it's a huge improvement over the ear-splitting 'no's' of yore. Even Emma's jumped into the fray, insisting on an empty jar of her own. To be truthful, I hesitated at first. After all, I perceived Emma to be a transition champion, particularly at mealtimes when Mouse was at her worst. But in the end I caved. Why not? There were only marbles to lose.

Here's a fly-on-the-wall perspective of the marbles in action:

Emma the Brave comes into the kitchen after having brushed her teeth before bed. Mouse is still dawdling, singing to herself instead of doing her bedtime washing up. As Emma brings our jars to the table, Mouse snaps back into reality and runs to bathroom to finish getting ready.

Earlier in the evening I'd listed the specific instances when I'd said, "It's time..." during the day and posted them on the kitchen chalk board:

• leaving for school in the morning
  
• leaving for school after lunch
• turning off the video
• bath time
• dinner time
• getting ready for bed

I show Emma what I've written and within seconds she's read it and done the math. "I get six marbles," she says, reaching for my jar.

"Not so fast," I say, sliding my jar away. "Let's go through them one by one. How did you do at leaving for school in the morning?"

"Good," she says.

I nod and hold up one finger. "And after lunch?"

"Good again."

Two fingers. "You're right. How about turning off the video?"

Emma holds up a hand, palm down, and rocks it back and forth. "Not so good."

"I would agree." She'd been really enjoying Lazy Town. It took multiple requests for her to turn it off after her one episode had finished. "And bath time?"

"Good." Three fingers.

"And the last two?"

"Good and good," she says and helps herself to five marbles.

At this point Mouse pads into the kitchen. "Now me," she says.

Mouse and I go through the same procedure as I'd done with Emma. In the end, she gets five out of a possible six marbles, having missed one thanks to her after dinner dawdle which comes as no surprise. With their marbles safely tucked away, the two compare notes and are relieved to discover that, in the end, they were the same, at least in the marble department.

There's a lot I like about this experiment in parenting. It demands that I be clear about my requests and pick my battles. There are times when I am open to negotiation and times when I'm not. These times are now far more clearly divided. It also allows the girls and I to reflect back on our day together, accounting for all successes and opportunities for improvement in a calm and relatively objective manner. Last but not least, it ensures the Captain and I are on the same page in the expectations department. Nothing undermines child-rearing faster than a weak link in the parental chain.

So here's the question: do I keep up with the marble jars once they earn their reward? We'll see. If so, I'll have to get bigger jars or smaller marbles. They're just getting to damn good.

The Seven Month Check-up

Emma and Mouse come into the kitchen where I'm elbow deep in a chicken.There isn't a marble in sight. "Mommy, we have a problem."

"What is it?" The pair are looking serious, but not distressed. 

Mouse nudges Emma to continue. "You make us stop playing with our friends at 5 o'clock [to do chores and homework], but some of our friends only get home from daycare at five."

"Hmm... That's true. Do you have a solution?"

Emma and Mouse give each other another serious look before Emma continues. "If we did our chores earlier, can we play with our friends until later?"

I thought about it as I washed my hands. They had a point and a reasonable solution. 

"Alright. Let's say you can play until 5:30 as long as homework and chores are done.  That gives you the chance to play with your buddies, but still some quiet time at home before dinner. Deal?" I offer my hand to shake on it.

Emma and Mouse look at each other and smile.

"Deal."

"Deal!"

They've taken this transition thing to a whole new level. Now they're training me!

Podcasts for Parents

When I was eight years old my parents and I lived in a bungalow just outside Detroit, Michigan. My bedroom carpet was lavender and threadbare, but went nicely with the flower print wallpaper and bedspread I'd chosen. My best friend's name was Leslie and we were both in Mrs. Gerrity's third grade class. We both wanted Mrs. Cornet for fourth grade even though she scared us to death. This is how I remember a lot of my childhood: token details that have somehow stuck around despite all the experiences that have been layered on since.  But how did I make decisions or solve problems? How did I perceive myself and others? To be honest, I can't be sure and in that I'm not alone. 

In the sidebar you will note a new addition: the RSS feed for one of my favourite child psychotherapists, Rachel Melville-Thomas, who has a weekly program called Kids in Mind on World Radio Switzerland. Topics covered have included materialism, fighting aggression, coping with illness and bullying. Podcasts run approximately 20 minutes and are worth every second of your time. Even better, they're free. 

If you know of any other parenting podcasts worth listening to, please leave a comment. The Creative Parent wants to know. 

Dress for the Weather

"Do I look pretty?"

Mouse has entered the kitchen wearing a bright red sun dress with spaghetti straps.  Outside it's pouring rain and a chilly 10˚C at best. 

"You look lovely, but have you noticed the weather?"  Puddles are forming on yesterday's sidewalk chalk masterpieces.  "I think it's too cold for that dress, sweetie. 

"But I like it!"

"So do I.  Let's save it for tomorrow." 

"No."

"Do you need help choosing a warmer outfit or can you do it by yourself?"

Mouse crosses her arms in front of her. "By myself."

Spring and Fall are prime times for discussions like this. Kids love predictability and the weather is simply not cooperating.  Here's a solution I'm about to put to the test:

More than a few times I've explained these guidelines to Mouse, but she continues to struggle.  I'm hoping a nice visual — paired with a real-time weather report — will make things more clear and turn her into a mini meteorologist with fashion sense.  We'll see.  Below you will find links to download your own template. I've left them blank so you can set your own guidelines or perhaps sketch in pictures for really little ones who can't yet read.  

Download Dress for the Weather in Celcius here.

Download Dress for the Weather in Fahrenheit here. 

If you decide to try one out let me know how it goes.  Mouse can't be the only kid bucking Mother Nature these days.

Expert Advice

If you were going to buy a book on parenting tomorrow, which one would it be? Here are few I'm considering for the Creative Parent Book Club.  Vote for one or more of these in the side bar or make a suggestion of your own in the comments. The most popular choice will be discussed next month.  

The New Strong-Willed Child by Dr. James C. Dobson 

1-2-3 Magic: Effective Discipline for Children Ages 2-12 by Thomas W. Phelan Ph. D.

How to Talk So Kids Will Listen & Listen So Kids Will Talk by Adele Faber & Elaine Mazlish

Setting Limits with Your Strong-Willed Child by Robert J. Mackenzie Ed. D.

Sleepless in America by Mary Sheedy Kurchinka

House Rules

"No balls in the house."

"No playing with the wedding china."

"No peeing in the dog dish."

If you spend any amount of time around children, I guarantee you'll have to enforce rules of conduct that you never knew you had.  Kids are curious, adventurous, playful and persistent, all to varying degrees.  While limits are an inevitable part of childhood — there's only so much you can do when you're 3' 6" and can't drive — it's only natural kids will challenge their boundaries. Unlike bars on a cage, limits of acceptable behavior are often not visible or rigid. They can change depending on the time of day, the environment or what grown up is in the room and such subtleties are not lost on our perceptive little progeny. What can make things that much more fuzzy is when we grown ups aren't clear about why we've set a limit in the first place.  This sets up the negotiation playing field, parent on one side and child on the other, a game that will continue until the child finds the real limit or the end of their parent's patience, which ever comes first. 

Two Kinds of Rules

In our home, rules fall into two basic categories: safety-driven or value-driven. Safety-driven rules are, by far, the easiest to express and enforce. Helmets on heads is the rule. No helmet, no bike is the consequence. On the other hand, value-driven rules invite a grey zone that becomes a parent's true test of clarity.  Here's a prime example offered up by one reader: how often is too often for my 5½ year-old to visit the next door neighbors? Once a day? Twice? What if the ball goes over the fence and the visit(s) of the day already happened? Then what? One can imagine that a scenario like this poses a field day for a pint-sized master negotiator. Depending on the parent, the kid and the neighbor, an acceptable outcome to this dilemma is up for grabs. The key, on the parent's side of the fence, is to get abundantly clear about what value is driving this to be an issue for them and their child.  Here is just one possibility:

Value: Privacy

A person's home is their private place, a place where they go when they want quiet time and comfort. While that's not to say that we can't ring their bell and say hello, doing so again and again is an invasion of their time and space. 

So, if this is the underlying value and said child still wants to pay the neighbor a visit, what should the limit be? Again, that's negotiable, but if you decide it to be one visit to say hello by the front door, then stick to it. If the ball goes over the fence, of course ask for it back. If it happens again, perhaps it should stay there until the next day's visit.  And what if the little ragamuffin sneaks off next door without your knowledge? Well, they've ventured into the non-negotiable territory of safety-driven rules with a set of consequences all of their own. 

Plan for Success

That said, it's a lot easier to praise than punish, so make sure you plan for success. How and when are you going to celebrate your child learning to respect a new limit? Immediate praise is great, but developing a new habit takes time and reinforcement. One easy way is to make a chart. For each day they keep to the rule in question, give them a smiley, a sticker or some other indicator that they've 'done good.' Decide on goal and a reward.  For instance, if they keep to one visit per day for seven days, promise a trip to their favorite park with a friend. Most importantly, when they reach the goal, make sure they understand what value they've mastered.   "Wow, you really learned how to respect Mr. Malloy's privacy. Way to go!"  Not all limits need such drastic measures, but if you find you're repeating yourself, that's a pretty good indicator that it's time to get creative. 

The Healthy Snack Café

If 'necessity' is the mother of invention, I'd be willing to bet that 'utter frustration' is the father. Allow me to illustrate :

Act 1: The Status Quo

MOM is surrounded by seemingly endless health claims when child enters.

CHILD: Mommy?
MOM: (still studying her Excel spreadsheet) Yes?
CHILD: I'm hungry.
MOM: (stalling against the inevitable) You are?
CHILD: Can I have a snack?
MOM: (standing up) Sure. What would you like? An apple? Some cheese?"
CHILD: I don't like cheese.
MOM: Since when?
CHILD: Since always.
MOM: Well, how about an apple?
CHILD: I don't want an apple.
MOM: Then what do you want?
CHILD: Crackers.
MOM: Alright, crackers it is.

Five minutes pass. MOM goes back to her spreadsheet.

CHILD: I'm still hungry. Can I have some popcorn?
MOM: (resisting the temptation to offer cheese again) You need to choose either a fruit or a vegetable.
CHILD: Corn's a vegetable.
MOM: Actually, it's a grain. How 'bout a carrot?

At this point CHILD walks to the refrigerator, opens it and stares blankly for a few minutes. MOM cringes as bottles in the door start to bead with condensation.

MOM: Please close the refrigerator.
CHILD: But I'm looking.
MOM: Yes, but I'm getting goose bumps.
CHILD: Fine.

CHILD reaches in, snatches something, then closes the fridge quickly, keeping her back to MOM.

MOM: What did you choose?

CHILD reluctantly turns around to display her selection: chocolate pudding.

MOM: Pudding is not a healthy snack; it's a dessert. Put it back, please.

CHILD returns the pudding to the fridge, slams the door shut, then slumps into a kitchen chair.

CHILD: There's nothing to eat.
MOM: How about that apple?
CHILD: (pause) Alright... Can you slice it?
MOM: Please?
CHILD: (sigh) Please.
MOM: You got it.

Sound familiar? Here's my latest solution:

Act 2: The Healthy Snack Cafe Opens for Business

MOM is filing rejected health claims when CHILD enters.

CHILD: I'm hungry.
MOM: Let's see if the Healthy Snack Café is open.
CHILD: Oh yeah!

CHILD runs ahead to the kitchen where she studies the Café menu*. 

Said menu is divided into three parts: Grains, Fruits and Vegetables, and Proteins. A 'healthy snack' includes something from each.**

*The management cannot guarantee all items will be in stock at all times.
**Any customer with poor manners will be refused.

MOM: So, what will it be?
CHILD: Crackers with hummus and a plum, please.

MOM and CHILD go on to make the snack together in peace.

Want your own Healthy Snack Café menu? 

Download it here. 

Welcome

Allow me to introduce myself.  My name is Melissa Miller and I am a writer, wife and mother with a passion for creative parenting.  

The Captain and I became parents eight years ago, when our first daughter, Emma, was born. Like a lot of new parents, I was overwhelmed by the new responsibility and desperately sought out resources to help make sense of every coo and cry. As Emma got older and her sister, Mouse, came along, new challenges came apparent as sibling rivalry entered the mix. Now, as the mother of two school-aged kids, I have the time and energy to share some of my hard-won wisdom with others and to help brainstorm solutions with you, the creative parent.  

So, if you have solution you'd like to share or dilemma in need of attention send it on. Parenting is an occupation with endless challenges and boundless rewards. Don't be afraid to ask for help — or a pat on the back.