Bella has a favourite saying when she’s cross with one of us. She will stick her neck out and snap ‘Well you’re not in charge today anyway’. We’ve heard that a lot in the last few days.
Every parent knows their kids can be guaranteed to spout their own catchphrases back at them. In fact you often don’t realise how much you say something until it comes out of the mouth of your pre-schooler.
I mean, they can’t remember to say please and thank you, despite being reminded approximately 40 times every day for the last three years, but they can always be relied upon to be heard muttering ‘Bloody hell’ under their breath when their Lego tower breaks.
The ‘you’re not in charge’ bit comes from the last few months when Andy has been at home on parental leave. When the kids came to my desk asking for a snack, or wanted some glue/sellotape/batteries, or needed to reach something high up, I would always opt for the big cop out and say ‘Go and ask Daddy, he’s in charge now’.
But Bella has now ramped things up a notch. As well as being told today that I wasn’t in charge, I was also notified that I was ‘making everyone sad’ (because I was playing with Henry rather than her) and that I needed to go to my room for a week. (She reneged on that when it became evident how happy I was at the prospect, much to my disappointment.)
I don’t know if it’s reflective of the stage we’re at - start of week two, novelty has worn off, they’re starting to realise this may be a bit more permanent than they first expected - but today it all went a bit Lord of the Flies.
They wouldn’t listen, sit still or stop tearing about screeching at the tops of their voices. We couldn’t get them to do any school work, eat a proper meal or, in Bella’s case, wear anything other than Henry’s Batman pyjamas. (She eventually chose to get dressed while I was on a video call and Andy was in the garden. So I conducted a conversation while she stood about an inch off camera completely naked and I tried to get her knickers on while not bending down or looking away from the camera. This photo shows just how little influence I had over what she chose to wear.)
It’s safe to say we're struggling a little with discipline and respect.
I think our friends would say we’re reasonably strict parents. Not that this is very often reflected in their behaviour, but we do try and instil manners, good behaviour and respect. Henry is more receptive than his sister who, my mother never gets bored of saying, reminds her of me. I say spirited. Some would say naughty.
But this new home/work/education arrangement adds a new dimension to the issue of discipline.
As parents we are trying to navigate a weird time in their lives, protecting them from hearing alarming news bulletins on the radio, reassuring them they’re not in danger, pretending this is all totally normal and just a mild irritation that has upset the normal course of their lives.
We are also trying to be their playmates, making up for the lack of small people with their sense of humour (essentially based around snot and poo), energy levels (why walk when you can run or skip?), and need to make noise every waking minute of the day. As much as we have our own stuff going on, we are definitely trying to set aside time to just be silly, play games or let them choose the activity (always den making, penalty shoot outs or colouring).
But we are also trying to be their teachers.
I have been surprised at how draining it can be flitting between the three. How can a 6 and 4 year old understand that we want them to sit still and concentrate on number bonds when five minutes ago we were acting out a hypothesis about who would win in a fight between Captain America and Spiderman?
It’s a lot to ask and I think it’s safe to say that today we didn’t really hit the right tone. And they definitely took advantage of that.
But I think it is testament to how much we’ve grown in the last week that come 7pm we didn’t open a bottle of wine. Maybe we’re starting to adjust after all.
Comments