Let me delve back into parenting on this parenting blog.
Every morning, I give the kids two graham crackers and a cup of milk apiece. They dip the crackers in the milk and eat them, something everyone can appreciate, but they're left with 'graham cracker milk.'
That's what we call it, anyway. Beatrix, the little sister, drinks hers without issue. Lucy, the big sister, absolutely refuses to drink it. But not with big tantrums--with quiet resistance, avoidance, neglect. She'll leave the cup on the table all fucking day, dealing with thirst apparently with aplomb and grace.
Most days I cave--I dump out the milk after I tell her how bad it is to waste food, contradicting the message right before her eyes as it's told to her. So, on days when I'm feeling strong--like I can take her on and not feel guilty about depriving her of what she wants--her and I get into what feels like a fight. These fights consist of quiet acceptance of the others' viewpoint, from both of ours, and an unwillingness to submit to the others' wishes. It involves a lot of waiting. Lucy thinks she can wait me out. I think.
I don't know what she's thinking--she's 4 years old. She can't yet articulate complex thoughts, though she tries and God bless her for it. She'll grow up into an intelligent woman one day, with standards about how men and women should treat her, that I'll pat myself on the back for teaching her.
In a perfect world, right? I'm sure every parent thinks this at the stage of parenting I'm at, even when their kids grow up to let people walk all over them, or to walk all over others. It happens--you know it does. People can be shitty. Usually you can blame it on the parents. So all I'm saying is that I have high hopes for my kids--but whether they're fulfilled isn't up to me. All I can do is be a teacher, a guide, a signpost in the blizzard, a light in the fog.
Today, the Graham Cracker Milk Battle rages. But we're at a point I'm not used to. She spilled the graham cracker milk when I wasn't in the room--then used a kitchen towel to clean it up. Even took her step stool over to the elevated towel rack to get it--I walk into the kitchen and she's ineffectively wiping up her spill.
Earlier in the kitchen, she was quietly shedding tears (which usually makes me cave--quiet suffering is so much more effective than tantrums) because I gave Beatrix a cup of juice after she finished her graham cracker milk. Today, I'm being firm. We don't waste food in my house.
I think that she wanted me to feel proud of her for cleaning up her spill by herself and just get her some milk because there was no more milk in her cup. After all, I did tell her to make it all gone. But she overlooked a few important details.
The first is intent. On her part. What was her intention in spilling the milk? Was the spill intended at all? --that's the first question. I think it was. I think she spilled it intentionally so that she could get out of drinking it and still get the juice--to have her cake and eat it to. But I was out of the room when it happened, so I don't know the circumstances of the spill.
The second detail she overlooked is that I don't want my nice kitchen towels cleaning up spills on the dirty floor--that's for sponges to handle. I have to explain this a little better to her--in the past we've congratulated the girls for grabbing a towel by themselves to clean up their own spills. So I've gotta set a rule or something. I dunno.
How can I say, "No towels to clean up spills"? Usually I get mad when the girls make spills, so telling them to come tell me when they spill is probably not going to work--who's gonna want to come tell their parent about a mess they made, when said parent has been shown to react poorly to messes? Why would someone willingly walk into the teeth of the lion?
So I wiped up Lucy's spill today, intentional or not, while telling her that I suspect she spilled it on purpose, that we don't spill our drinks, and that since she didn't drink her milk, she gets no juice.
+1 point for Lucy: she got out of drinking her graham cracker milk.
+1 point for Dada: he did not give Lucy juice because she did not drink her graham cracker milk.
I gave her a cup of warm water. I didn't even want her water to be cold and enjoyable.
What would you do?
***
Megan just came home for lunch and learned me a few things.
1. Lucy colored a picture on the kitchen table with crayons.
2. Lucy didn't drink her graham cracker milk all day yesterday either.
Additional points against her:
She yells at her mom all the time and teaches her sister the same behavior.
This means war.
Every morning, I give the kids two graham crackers and a cup of milk apiece. They dip the crackers in the milk and eat them, something everyone can appreciate, but they're left with 'graham cracker milk.'
That's what we call it, anyway. Beatrix, the little sister, drinks hers without issue. Lucy, the big sister, absolutely refuses to drink it. But not with big tantrums--with quiet resistance, avoidance, neglect. She'll leave the cup on the table all fucking day, dealing with thirst apparently with aplomb and grace.
Most days I cave--I dump out the milk after I tell her how bad it is to waste food, contradicting the message right before her eyes as it's told to her. So, on days when I'm feeling strong--like I can take her on and not feel guilty about depriving her of what she wants--her and I get into what feels like a fight. These fights consist of quiet acceptance of the others' viewpoint, from both of ours, and an unwillingness to submit to the others' wishes. It involves a lot of waiting. Lucy thinks she can wait me out. I think.
I don't know what she's thinking--she's 4 years old. She can't yet articulate complex thoughts, though she tries and God bless her for it. She'll grow up into an intelligent woman one day, with standards about how men and women should treat her, that I'll pat myself on the back for teaching her.
In a perfect world, right? I'm sure every parent thinks this at the stage of parenting I'm at, even when their kids grow up to let people walk all over them, or to walk all over others. It happens--you know it does. People can be shitty. Usually you can blame it on the parents. So all I'm saying is that I have high hopes for my kids--but whether they're fulfilled isn't up to me. All I can do is be a teacher, a guide, a signpost in the blizzard, a light in the fog.
Today, the Graham Cracker Milk Battle rages. But we're at a point I'm not used to. She spilled the graham cracker milk when I wasn't in the room--then used a kitchen towel to clean it up. Even took her step stool over to the elevated towel rack to get it--I walk into the kitchen and she's ineffectively wiping up her spill.
Earlier in the kitchen, she was quietly shedding tears (which usually makes me cave--quiet suffering is so much more effective than tantrums) because I gave Beatrix a cup of juice after she finished her graham cracker milk. Today, I'm being firm. We don't waste food in my house.
I think that she wanted me to feel proud of her for cleaning up her spill by herself and just get her some milk because there was no more milk in her cup. After all, I did tell her to make it all gone. But she overlooked a few important details.
The first is intent. On her part. What was her intention in spilling the milk? Was the spill intended at all? --that's the first question. I think it was. I think she spilled it intentionally so that she could get out of drinking it and still get the juice--to have her cake and eat it to. But I was out of the room when it happened, so I don't know the circumstances of the spill.
The second detail she overlooked is that I don't want my nice kitchen towels cleaning up spills on the dirty floor--that's for sponges to handle. I have to explain this a little better to her--in the past we've congratulated the girls for grabbing a towel by themselves to clean up their own spills. So I've gotta set a rule or something. I dunno.
How can I say, "No towels to clean up spills"? Usually I get mad when the girls make spills, so telling them to come tell me when they spill is probably not going to work--who's gonna want to come tell their parent about a mess they made, when said parent has been shown to react poorly to messes? Why would someone willingly walk into the teeth of the lion?
So I wiped up Lucy's spill today, intentional or not, while telling her that I suspect she spilled it on purpose, that we don't spill our drinks, and that since she didn't drink her milk, she gets no juice.
+1 point for Lucy: she got out of drinking her graham cracker milk.
+1 point for Dada: he did not give Lucy juice because she did not drink her graham cracker milk.
I gave her a cup of warm water. I didn't even want her water to be cold and enjoyable.
What would you do?
***
Megan just came home for lunch and learned me a few things.
1. Lucy colored a picture on the kitchen table with crayons.
2. Lucy didn't drink her graham cracker milk all day yesterday either.
Additional points against her:
She yells at her mom all the time and teaches her sister the same behavior.
This means war.
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