No soup for you
I'm driving home from daycare with the kids, later than usual, after having to do some tricky backroads-guessing to avoid a large accident that blocked the two-lane road I normally take.
The Boy asks if we can have pizza tonight. What he's really asking is if we can stop by Target -- ours is one of the cool ones that has a Pizza Hut and Taco Bell inside -- and get personal pizzas, and, more importantly, Slurpees. They're not really Slurpees, I know, because that's a trademarked name, but come on, they're freakin' Slurpees.
As I said, it's late. I'm tired. I could probably be persuaded to go by somewhere with a drive-through for dinner. But getting out of the car, with both kids, and waiting in line for pizza and Sugar Rushes -- I mean, Slurpees -- on a school night? Not such a good idea. I say no, not tonight, sweetie, but I promise, tomorrow night. Friday night, pizza night, all's right with the world.
"I wanted pizza tonight," he pouts. "Nevertheless," I say, "we will not be getting pizza tonight. We'll have it tomorrow."
"But --" he begins. "No buts. Tomorrow. And if I hear another word about it, you won't get pizza tomorrow night, either."
He knows better. The rule has been in force for some time now: whining and arguing will only make things worse. Not only are you pretty much guaranteed to NOT get what you want, but the likelihood increases that you will incur punishment.
He is quiet. I change the subject. Thursday is one of his favorite school days, because they have both P.E. and art. "So, how was your day today?" I ask.
"Fine." *sniffle* "It'd be better if I could have pizza tonight, though."
Bzzt. Wrong answer.
"I'm glad your day was fine. I hope tomorrow is fine, too. But it'll be fine without pizza for dinner."
"WHAT?!"
"Um. This should really not be a surprise. You know the rule. I even warned you, not two minutes before, that this would happen if you continued complaining, and you did it anyway. Now. Do you have anything else to say about pizza?"
*sniffle* "No, ma'am."
"Good boy. Now, I understand that you're upset, but I want you to understand that this situation could have been completely different if you had made some different decisions. Remember this for next time, and make a different decision, okay?"
"Yes, ma'am."
He still looked sullen a few minutes later when we pulled up to the apartment complex. I opened the door for him, and he got out and hugged me. I tousled his hair and looked down and him, and smiled. He looked back at me and smiled.
We got Bamm-Bamm out of the car, and they raced up the stairs. I exhaled.
I hate doing that. I wanted pizza.
The Boy asks if we can have pizza tonight. What he's really asking is if we can stop by Target -- ours is one of the cool ones that has a Pizza Hut and Taco Bell inside -- and get personal pizzas, and, more importantly, Slurpees. They're not really Slurpees, I know, because that's a trademarked name, but come on, they're freakin' Slurpees.
As I said, it's late. I'm tired. I could probably be persuaded to go by somewhere with a drive-through for dinner. But getting out of the car, with both kids, and waiting in line for pizza and Sugar Rushes -- I mean, Slurpees -- on a school night? Not such a good idea. I say no, not tonight, sweetie, but I promise, tomorrow night. Friday night, pizza night, all's right with the world.
"I wanted pizza tonight," he pouts. "Nevertheless," I say, "we will not be getting pizza tonight. We'll have it tomorrow."
"But --" he begins. "No buts. Tomorrow. And if I hear another word about it, you won't get pizza tomorrow night, either."
He knows better. The rule has been in force for some time now: whining and arguing will only make things worse. Not only are you pretty much guaranteed to NOT get what you want, but the likelihood increases that you will incur punishment.
He is quiet. I change the subject. Thursday is one of his favorite school days, because they have both P.E. and art. "So, how was your day today?" I ask.
"Fine." *sniffle* "It'd be better if I could have pizza tonight, though."
Bzzt. Wrong answer.
"I'm glad your day was fine. I hope tomorrow is fine, too. But it'll be fine without pizza for dinner."
"WHAT?!"
"Um. This should really not be a surprise. You know the rule. I even warned you, not two minutes before, that this would happen if you continued complaining, and you did it anyway. Now. Do you have anything else to say about pizza?"
*sniffle* "No, ma'am."
"Good boy. Now, I understand that you're upset, but I want you to understand that this situation could have been completely different if you had made some different decisions. Remember this for next time, and make a different decision, okay?"
"Yes, ma'am."
He still looked sullen a few minutes later when we pulled up to the apartment complex. I opened the door for him, and he got out and hugged me. I tousled his hair and looked down and him, and smiled. He looked back at me and smiled.
We got Bamm-Bamm out of the car, and they raced up the stairs. I exhaled.
I hate doing that. I wanted pizza.
posted by ilse at 5:37 PM
10 Comments:
I hate that. I hate that need to do one more little test of authority after having been told the consequences of another test of authority. It must be something in the seven-year old mind.
You're so nice. Auntie Sasha would have pizza in front of his ass while he had, say, oatmeal.
you are much better at that than me! I will take this as a learning lesson and put the smack down on my kiddos!
Hi I am jen aka Minnie.
I thought I had completely eradicated that word from DataBoy's vocabulary. I am so going all Federalist on his narrow ass.
It's so hard not to go back when you've laid down the law.
Good Job!
Hey Ilse! Great Blog, glad you started one.
I am such a softie (read lazy) when it comes to this kindof stuff. Good for you. I applaud your ability to be consistant.
If you've got any tips to make kids be neat, I'd love to hear them. :)
Um. Beatings work. :D
I recently explained to The Boy the concept of Everything Having a Place. He was fascinated.
This does not mean, however, that he was moved to action.
LOL@beatings. (ok, that didn't sound quite right, but you know what I mean :D)
My youngest is the worst. I swear that she thinks the floor is one big trash bin. She just drops stuff where she stands. It's making me nuts. When they were younger, both of them would go to their rooms and go to sleep before they'd pick up their stuff. Weird.
I do realize that this isn't the kids problem, but my own. Hopefully, I'll find something that works for both of us.
So, have you had pizza yet?
I? Have had pizza. He? Has not.
Although I didn't eat it in front of him :)
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