Last night Birdman and I were going to the store–Birdboy (age 2) had been playing with Play Dough for a while. When we got him ready to go, all he had was the empty can, the actual Dough had been stashed somewhere. Birdman tried to ask him directly “Hey Birdboy, where did you put the Play Dough?” Clearly was not working.
I noticed a little bit of it on the floor and showed it to him: “Hey Birdboy, I found this piece of Play Dough. We should put it with the rest of your stash! Here you go!” He ran right off and stuck it to the the clump he had put in my gym bag.
I felt like the Doctor and Sherlock Holmes all rolled into one.
When my kids were younger there was the typical name calling amongst siblings. When one would run to me and claim mortal offense, the conversation would always go like this:
Child: So-and-so called me (stupid, ugly, useless, etc)!
Me: Are you?
Child: Um, no.
Me: OK, now go back out and play.
Years later my middle child was relating this to someone while in my presence and said “I always hated that answer! I was looking for sympathy and Dad gave me…(lightbulb goes on)…the understanding that what others think about me doesn’t matter if it’s not true… Thanks, Dad!”
Not a parent but I once had a moment of avuncular brilliance. I was driving with my niece, who was at the age of playing the “why?” game. So after answering why do birds fly and why are there clouds in the sky and why are clouds white and why is the sky blue and why does the wind blow, I was asked why air is called air.
My son, at about 2 years old, was having a melt down at a family event. I was comforting him and every time he wailed I would stick my index finger parallel in between his lips and wiggle it up and down to modulated the noise; you know the method. It didn’t take long before he laughed at the noise he was making and forgot why he was crying in the first place.
Not as a parent, but as an aunt. My nephew was choosing his pumpkin for Halloween, and taking forever to do it. His Mom, my sister in law, was at her wit’s end. THEN he decided he wanted TWO!! I saw the tiny ornamental pumpkins and said “Oh, look, Mama and Baby pumpkin!” He quick grabbed the little one I was holding and we were out the store!
My monster-b-gone spray. Vinegar, baking soda, sparkly glitter, purple food colouring in a clear spray bottle.
It was worth having the occasional glitter bit under the bed, as it visibly reminded him that the area had indeed been sprayed, so all monsters were banished and both boy and mom could sleep.
Two come to mind.
Take the little ones to the pumpkin patch to get pumpkins. They of course want the 100 lb ones that cost more than I could afford. On the spur of the moment I came up with the you have to be able to carry it to the counter rule.
Kids in car seats. When they get to a particular age, they learn how how to undo the 47 point harness, and will do it while you are driving. When my oldest did this, I just pulled over and didn’t say a word. After maybe a minute he asked why we stopped. I told him we couldn’t drive if he wasn’t buckled in. He thought for about 10 seconds and put the harness back on. Never took it off again while we were driving.
Worked the same on my youngest when she did it.
When my kids were much younger, during one bad family episode of gastroenteritis I put a bounty of $5 on every time someone made it to the toilet to throw up. It was hugely effective, to the point that our friends all copied it.
Was it expensive? Sure. Was it worth it? Every penny.
Unfortunately, you are strong enough to suppress vomiting, but your throat isn’t: your stomach has enough power to tear your throat internally, which can be fatal within a couple of days, and cause permanent damage even if it isn’t fatal.
The worry, of course, is that some kid might not make the right choice between (a) going to the bathroom when they are going to throw up, and (b) holding it down until they get there.
One torturous afternoon at an overcrowded mall, one three year old trooper pushed almost beyond his limits, and the light at the end of the tunnel…a big chocolate chip cookie, waited for in line for 10 minutes and placed lovingly into a paper bag at the counter…
…and accidentally dropped on the way out of the store when someone bumped into him. Broken into half a dozen pieces.
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But really, I have to give the grand prize to my mother, who had her first grandchild convinced that “The Music Truck” drove around town to play music for the kids on hot summer days, and that “The Toy Museum” with the backwards R in their name was where, like all museums, you went to look, but of course you can’t bring the exhibits home with you. (Meanwhile she’d write down everything he really loved and come back later to get it for him for gift giving occasions.)
(Seriously, I think someone really should open a Toy Museum where they have toys out for play, and then an attendant gives you a link to a webpage where you can buy what your kid enjoyed the most! Like a showroom for toys…)
So this spring, instead of filling the turtle sand box with sand, I filled it with rubber mulch. He can still scoop, bury, make roads, but when it’s time to come in there’s no 10-minute decontamination.
I told my kiddo that the police would arrest you if you were riding in a car without a seatbelt. I even would point to people who were pulled over, saying, “Look, he didn’t have his seatbelt on, they’re taking him to jail.” Never had a problem after that.
The little Torqueling always wanted to know who people are and where they’re going. Motorcycles, especially, when she was little. “Where is that motorcycle going?” I said, “To the motorcycle park, to play with the other motorcycles.” Phew, that satisfied her. “Can WE go to the motorcycle park?” Flash of brilliance: “No, because we don’t have a motorcycle.”
Our neighborhood had an asparagus truck for years. It would drive around, playing music, letting everyone know they could come get fresh asparagus. They finally replaced it with an ice cream truck a couple of years ago.
And from just last night: “Daddy, my trick-or-treat bag is heavy, can you carry it?” “It’ll be a lot lighter if I eat all the candy…” “No, daddy!”
When potty training our eldest we were desperately trying to come up with a way of getting her to associate sitting on the potty with having a wee…no luck.
We did however notice that when we plonked her in the bath she would wee almost straight away. On noticing this the next time I thought she was ready to go I sat her on the potty, in the bath and sprinkled her legs with the shower (warm water of course, I’m not a barbarian!).
After a couple of goes with that she was well on the way, she just had to make that mental connection.
I’m not a parent, but when Number One Nephew was about 5 his parents and grandmother (my mom) were gobsmacked when they came to check on us “playing” to discover I’d gotten him to clean up all his toys and put them away for the first time, ever.
He’s very precise and methodical (future engineer ), so I’d simply started putting all his toys away in the wrong places. “No! Uncle Lightray, you’re doing it wrong!” And then, of course, he had to show me how to do it correctly.
Alas, Number Two Nephew was soon old enough to add to the clutterwreck, and blithly unconcerned about people doing things wrong – as long as he didn’t have to do them. I think that may’ve actually been the last time I saw the floors in their house…
My kids having to share a treat. Maybe a candy bar, maybe a can of soda. Every time, it turns into, “he got MORE than me, wah!”.
Just buy 2 treats next time? NEVER!
Now we let the older kid have the honor of dividing the treat, and the younger one gets to pick first. Treats look like they were surgically divided with a scalpel, down to the last micron of treat-matter.
When my son was 12 he would get a $5 allowance for doing his chores. Each week on payday we would argue about the fact that he failed to do most of his chores.
So I told him, " I’m tired of arguing. I’m just going to give you $10 a week no matter what."
His eyes lit up and he immediately agreed.
The next day I came home and took out the trash. Then I stopped by his room where he was goofing off and said, " I took out the trash for you". He said thanks and I said, " No problem. I only charge a dollar for that". ---- $9 left.
By the time payday came around he was down to $4 and he knew where each and every one of his $6 was spent.
After that he managed to make it most weeks with a $7 payday.
At first he though he was doing pretty good by doing all his chores but he had an attitude problem with his mom.
So I told him, “Let me give you some advice. Don’t backtalk your mom. and by the way, my advice is quite valuable. It only costs $5”
After that whenever he was acting up I would say to him, “Ned some advice?”, and things would improve quickly.
Mine was when I had picked berries with a little girl. We had picked berries for half an hour, and the little girl insisted on holding her loot of picked berries in an open container. Then she tripped and…all her berries spilled on the forest floor. Huge tears.
“Oh, sweetie, we can’t eat those anymore, but we got enough berries, and now you’ve made all the little animals in the forest sooo happy! You see, they were too small to reach and pick those berries, and now you’ve put them where they can get at them, and they are so grateful to you now!”
She insisted on picking berries and putting them on the ground all the way back to the car.
That’s why we go to Goodwill every Wednesday. Kiddo can try out toys, and he can take one and only one home with him. And most toys there are a dollar or less. Plus: I can bring back toys he no longer plays with.
), so I’d simply started putting all his toys away in the wrong places. “No! Uncle Lightray, you’re doing it wrong!” And then, of course, he had to show me how to do it correctly.