A one size fits all
As the time for the play date approaches I have a growing sense of dread. I have my own mother’s words circulating through my skull, variations on ‘don’t be such a wimp.’
It’s one thing to discipline my own children in my own home, but it’s quite another to tackle someone else’s child. It would be so easy to do irreparable harm, however unwittingly. I just don’t know the child well enough.
In theory, I have decided on my approach, the one that I generally use. I practice in my head and anticipate reactions, but it’s all just theory. The practice rarely turns out as planned.
When the first demand is bellowed I ignore it, or rather I pretend to ignore it. After a couple of repeated demands she comes to seek me out in the kitchen, “hey! I said I want a snack. Didn’t ya hear me?” She turns on her heel and stomps back into the family room to continue playing. I swallow hard and ignore the yellow stripe down my back. Am I the only one afraid of ten year olds? I tiptoe into the family room to survey a relatively calm scene of play. I am cautious of the firecracker child. She glances up at me, or rather my empty hands, bristling. Her mouth drops open, presumably with outrage or disbelief, as I sit down next to her on the carpet. “You know “Rebecca,” in our house we try and use our indoor voices.”
“What?”
“We try and use quiet voices so that we don’t hurt our ears.” She looks at me as if I am a thing from another planet, which I probably am. Will she spontaneously combust?
“O.k. so can I have my snack now? Is that what ya want?”
“That is sooo much better, much easier to listen to.” She looks at me again. Is she checking for sarcasm?
“Snack?”
“I’m going to get everyone a snack.”
“When?”
“I’m going to start now and I should be ready in about five minutes. Here. Do you see this timer. The red bit shows five minutes. It would be great if you could wait those five minutes because there’s six of you and only one of me.”
She looks at me. She looks at the timer.
“Is that o.k. with you?”
“Sure.”
“Shall I tell you something else about our house?”
“Sure.”
“When people say please and thank you, I work sooo much faster.” I attempt a smile to the unknowable child, the stun gun in the arsenal of sophisticated pre-teen population.
“Please.”
Save me from the typical types.
Stumble it!
June 9th, 2008 at 11:43 pm
Me too—my lovely boy who looks at me even before he whisks open the fridge door so winsomely.
June 10th, 2008 at 2:20 am
Well said! And the drawings are great.
June 10th, 2008 at 4:08 am
I love this story. There nust be one of these kids in every neighborhood, classroom, playgroup. I never know what to do with them either, after all they are someone elses child–thank goodness.
The drawings are great.
June 10th, 2008 at 5:37 am
Amen Sista, save me from the typical types is so right! I deal much better with kids with Autism. It’s amazing too how strategies we use for our kids work well on the “typies”……timer = patience for all
*Side note: sorry I never replied to your request for a connection thru Trusera, I really don’t know how to do it! Loser that I am, I have no clue. I am definitely not avoiding you!
June 10th, 2008 at 5:44 am
While I don’t see this behaviour a lot during play dates (we have very few) I do see it at the boys’ school. And not with the “different” kids. I walk into my older son’s grade 2 class and wonder….boy do I wonder. I’m always pleased to be taking my not-so-normal children home with me.
I also tend to completely ignore rude demands. You handled it perfectly.
June 10th, 2008 at 6:02 am
Lovely. The amount of you have continues to astound me.
June 10th, 2008 at 6:20 am
very sweet. great drawings
June 10th, 2008 at 6:33 am
I must admit: I have zero concern about permanently scarring such children. Honestly, I figure that they need something permanent - a permanent idea that the way that they are behaving is unacceptable. I would have probably looked slackjawed at that girl and said “WOW. That’s rude. When you want something from somebody, it works a lot better to ask nicely. If you want a snack, you will need to ask me in a nice tone of voice and remember the magic word. Wanna try that again?” Delivered with a certain amount of honest shock, and no sarcasm whatsoever, this approach works on adults, too (with a touch less explanation - if they don’t know how to ask nicely by age 40, explaining it probably won’t help)!
You are much more gentle than I! I figure that getting much further with manners as bad as Rebecca’s will damage her in ways that correcting her now probably won’t. But I’m notoriously mean. Just ask my kids.
And I sympathize completely with hearing your mom’s voice. Mine teaches 3 year olds. Her class hums along remarkably, however — I come from a long line of mean!
June 10th, 2008 at 6:49 am
I was a Girl Scout camp counselor for 3 summers. It took exactly 1 meal per week for the kids to decide if they did or did not want to sit at my table, because I announced my “table rules” at the beginning of every meal. The last rule was that if the girls couldn’t follow my rules, I could, and would, move them to another table. It worked like a charm. (I never had to actually move anyone, fwiw.) Like others, I come from a long line of mean, but we’re “southern” so we can be pleasant while telling you to kiss our asses.
June 10th, 2008 at 10:20 am
kudos for not loosing your cool. seriously.
June 10th, 2008 at 11:36 am
Applause!!!!!!
June 10th, 2008 at 12:27 pm
Hi! Love your fishy avatar. Saw you over at Limes talking about “the year away”
Can you blog about that, or come over and tell me about that?
We are hoping that our daughter will want to go to India to school for a year for college and by jeeves, we are both going with her!
June 10th, 2008 at 1:10 pm
Hi,
I have a 20 page intro/rationale for a unique interactive DVD for autistic children that I’ve been working on for 18months and I would very much like parents to read and react to. If you are interested please contact me through my email. Thanks
June 10th, 2008 at 1:18 pm
Gosh I can feel my blood pressure rising. Not having raised kids in England I can’t jump to the conclusion that it’s American kids, although no one seems to use the word please here. A few weeks ago I had one five year old go to my pantry and fling the doors open “looking for a better snack”. When they are as rude as your guest I usually say “This mommy doesn’t respond to commands. In this house we all have to say please”. End of story.
June 10th, 2008 at 1:20 pm
And I have totally given up on the idea of trying to “educate” anyone else’s kids. That’s a lost cause and rather pointless. My aim now is just to stop myself from screaming at them or making them sit in another room!
June 10th, 2008 at 9:23 pm
Send her ’round my way. Last night I dreamed someone had dropped me off in Walmart with a loaded BB gun and extra ammo . . .