Well, today was my first experience with having a child “run away.”
Patches was tired and needed a nap. This meant that I needed to lie in bed with him and read him a story or two for him to be settled. It only takes about 5 minutes, but they must be quiet and peaceful minutes. Having Gleek in the room interferes with the process because she talks and then requires coaxing to leave. The coaxing almost always reminds Patches that he doesn’t really want to take a nap and I’m back to square one. Today Gleek did not want to have to wait out of the room while I settled Patches. I tried coaxing. I tried offering movies, stories, or computer games. I tried getting firm. Finally I picked her up, put her outside the room and locked the door. Gleek was outraged at this. She howled. She pounded on the door. Finally she announced “I’m Moving!” and all went quiet. I finished reading to Patches. Fortunately today’s stories were short rather than the epic length Dr. Seuss story he usually demands. Then I departed the room with mission accomplished.
Now I had a new problem. Gleek had obviously hidden herself away somewhere. I hadn’t heard the front door, so I thought she was still in the house. I don’t like “hiding from mommy” behaviors, so I knew I needed to craft my response carefully. Most of Gleeks misbehaviors are based in a desire for attention. I considered going to read a book and thus denying her the attention. I knew she would emerge on her own with a different attention seeking behavior. Unfortunately I was not certain she was in the house. It was possible that I’d missed hearing the front door. Leaving The House Without Telling Me is a major infraction of our rules and required different handling than merely Hiding From Mom. I needed to know which I was dealing with. I searched the house. I looked in all the hidey-corners. I called her name. Silence. Gleek is capable of silence, but the house felt truly empty rather than sneaky.
Gleek was plenty mad enough to deliberately break rules, so I considered her leaving the house as pretty likely. This provided me with a quandry. I couldn’t easily go and search for her. Patches was sleeping and I couldn’t leave him alone. Besides I wasn’t sure where to look for her. Would she go to a friend’s house to play? Would she find an outdoor corner and hide? Would she sit on a street corner? This was a new behavior and I didn’t know what shape it would take. Fortunately just as I was beginning to dither, I looked out the front window and saw Gleek on her way home. I had one minute to decide how I was going to react to her reappearance. Asking before leaving the house is a safety rule and I needed to reinforce the importance of it. I also needed to assure Gleek of her value and my love for her since it was an exclusionary event that set this incident off in the first place. I decided that anger had no place in the upcoming conversation. She walked in the door and I scooped her off her feet into a hug. “Where were you?!” I asked in a worried tone. “I looked all over the house and I couldn’t find you and I was scared.” Gleek was a little startled at this, I think she expected an angry confrontation. She and I had a snuggle and talked it all over. Will she ever do it again? I don’t know. Probably. What kids do once, they’re likely to do again. I just know I need to handle it carefully now so that when she’s capable of truly running away, she no longer wants to.
So I guess I’m pretty machiavellian. I consciously craft my responses to behaviors to encourage the ones I like and discourage the ones I don’t. I suppose it is pretty manipulative. I used to be furious at my Dad for the manipulations that he used when I was a teen. I’d be furious because I could see them and they still worked. Now I am a parent and I’m the manipulative one. But I have a whole different view of it. It is my job to teach these little people how to be good, kind, honest, hard working people. It is my job to keep them safe. There are a multitude of tools I can use to achieve those ends; manipulation, anger, scolding, punishing, force, violence, coaxing, bribing…you get the idea. I try to use the right tool for the right job. But more than anything else if I can consciously act rather than merely reacting, then I think I do alright. It may be machiavellian, but it beats screaming and door slamming.
That’s not manipulation. That’s called active-parenting. That’s called teaching. That’s called knowing-your-child-and-how-best-to-positively-get-through-to-her.
Your clear-headedness in dealing with your children never ceases to amaze me.
That’s not manipulation. That’s called active-parenting. That’s called teaching. That’s called knowing-your-child-and-how-best-to-positively-get-through-to-her.
Your clear-headedness in dealing with your children never ceases to amaze me.
Children are not particularly good at setting their own emotional reactions aside to be receptive to – and take to heart – a rational discussion about their behavior and how and why it needs to change. (Neither are many adults, but that’s a different issue.) At the same time, it’s vital to be able to communicate with children about their behavior and try to sculpt their behaviors into those of good people.
Emotional manipulation at that age may be a little machiavellian, but you’re right that it beats a failed attempt at discouraging or encouraging behavior in a different way…
Running-away behavior can be scary, though. I’m glad it turned out okay.
Children are not particularly good at setting their own emotional reactions aside to be receptive to – and take to heart – a rational discussion about their behavior and how and why it needs to change. (Neither are many adults, but that’s a different issue.) At the same time, it’s vital to be able to communicate with children about their behavior and try to sculpt their behaviors into those of good people.
Emotional manipulation at that age may be a little machiavellian, but you’re right that it beats a failed attempt at discouraging or encouraging behavior in a different way…
Running-away behavior can be scary, though. I’m glad it turned out okay.
You think it’s machiavellian to parent with fore-thought? If everybody would adopt your parenting style (and skills, which are amazing) we would rarely need jails. Or policemen.
You think it’s machiavellian to parent with fore-thought? If everybody would adopt your parenting style (and skills, which are amazing) we would rarely need jails. Or policemen.
I believe the word for what I’m feeling is “awe.”
Admittedly, I’m male, so I have more testosterone shaping my reactions, but my instinctive response would have probably blown Gleek right back out the door – without opening it.
I hated guilt trips from my parents when I was a kid. They would usually result in me doing the opposite of what was wanted. But what you did was awesome (that would be why I felt awe upon reading of it).
I believe the word for what I’m feeling is “awe.”
Admittedly, I’m male, so I have more testosterone shaping my reactions, but my instinctive response would have probably blown Gleek right back out the door – without opening it.
I hated guilt trips from my parents when I was a kid. They would usually result in me doing the opposite of what was wanted. But what you did was awesome (that would be why I felt awe upon reading of it).
Sounds like you had the right reaction. When I had my first “running away” I took my bike and rode to the library a couple miles away. My step mother never even noticed I was gone, but when my dad got home, he was worried and scared and angry. Luckily, he knew that the only place I was bound to go was somewhere with books. He headed to the library, and I’d pretty much already forgotten that I’d ran away, and was tucked into a chair with a book. He came in and reacted like you did – letting me know that he came home and was so worried that his baby girl was gone.
I never did it again.
Sounds like you had the right reaction. When I had my first “running away” I took my bike and rode to the library a couple miles away. My step mother never even noticed I was gone, but when my dad got home, he was worried and scared and angry. Luckily, he knew that the only place I was bound to go was somewhere with books. He headed to the library, and I’d pretty much already forgotten that I’d ran away, and was tucked into a chair with a book. He came in and reacted like you did – letting me know that he came home and was so worried that his baby girl was gone.
I never did it again.
Great choice of response. You made a big deal, which is exactly what she wanted.. but it came with a price tag she didn’t expect, and which made her “lose” the battle. She wanted you to be angry, or thought she did. That’s why she left the house in the first place.
You weren’t machiavellian; you knew your child, and took the appropriate steps. Hopefully I’ll be that clear-headed as my son gets more and more challenging, the stubborn little cuss.
My one and only time to run away, I was picked up by the neighbor. See, the Rules said that I couldn’t cross the street without an adult, so when I “ran away” (at about 5, based on Mom’s stories), I just sort of walked around the block. The neighbor in the house directly behind ours just happened to be my aunt… and thus, the jig was up. I wonder what I would have done when I found myself right back at my house… hmm.
For the record, my Mom did the same thing, clinging to me and behaving as though worry had been eating her alive. It worked, and hey, it convinced me that I was a loved and vital part of the family – something that the youngest (and quietest) in a large, loud family can come to doubt. Go, Sandra!
Great choice of response. You made a big deal, which is exactly what she wanted.. but it came with a price tag she didn’t expect, and which made her “lose” the battle. She wanted you to be angry, or thought she did. That’s why she left the house in the first place.
You weren’t machiavellian; you knew your child, and took the appropriate steps. Hopefully I’ll be that clear-headed as my son gets more and more challenging, the stubborn little cuss.
My one and only time to run away, I was picked up by the neighbor. See, the Rules said that I couldn’t cross the street without an adult, so when I “ran away” (at about 5, based on Mom’s stories), I just sort of walked around the block. The neighbor in the house directly behind ours just happened to be my aunt… and thus, the jig was up. I wonder what I would have done when I found myself right back at my house… hmm.
For the record, my Mom did the same thing, clinging to me and behaving as though worry had been eating her alive. It worked, and hey, it convinced me that I was a loved and vital part of the family – something that the youngest (and quietest) in a large, loud family can come to doubt. Go, Sandra!