Tag Archives: daughter

Baffling Technology

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Charades with Kids

She couldn’t possibly have looked at me more dubiously when I told her that this is a picture of a phone. Had I ripped my face off to reveal that I’m actually a 3-headed alien, her surprise → belief → acceptance rate would have been faster.

In related news, Sally is horrible at charades. Her coat impression consisted of her running in a circle with her arms outstretched, which I’m pretty sure is the universal sign for I’m pretending to be an airplane. Then she told me it was coat and showed me a picture of a telephone.

Does too much cute hurt?

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Overheard from the other room:

“Don’t you remember what Mommy said? Just because you’re little and cute, doesn’t mean you can do whatever you want.”

Amen, Luke. A-freaking-men.

As Sally rounds three and a half, and heads into the homestretch towards four, I see the error of my ways coming to hit me in the face. I see a future adolescent, a future teenager. ::shudder:: And I don’t think I like her.

My problem is that she’s soooooooooo cute. I can barely stop myself from constantly smooshing her, petting her, kissing her, turning her upside down to hear her giggles, nuzzling her, hugging her, adoring her. All of this fawning has taught her one thing: I’m cute, I’m little, and therefore, I can do whatever I want.

I make sure to tell her that I value effort, caring, sharing, kindness, and manners over looks, cuteness, prettiness, pigtails and tutus and mismatched rainboots. I say it, but I don’t act it.

I’m not just talking about cute as in pretty. Part of it is just being so dang small. Why do you think those mini-liquor bottles are so appealing? It’s the cute factor – they look just like regular ones, but teeny. This defines Sally.

cute

The truth is, her cuteness is really her best trait so far. She’s not a great conversationalist, she can’t sing, she cheats at cards, picks her nose, and cries at the tiniest perceived injury or disappointment. Her sense of humor and personal hygiene are questionable at best and her table manners leave much to be desired.

I need to find a way to balance reveling her in her cuteness with not letting her think that being cute is her free pass. Part of me wants to put my foot down, nip this in the bud. I can see the catastrophic tantrums of a demanding nine-year old, the epic battles with a self-centered sixteen-year old, and the crushing disappointment of a disenchanted twenty-five year old. My job is early intervention to prepare this child for when she’s regular-people-sized.

But then part of me knows that my little kids are getting bigger, that my days of hand holding and Eskimo kisses are numbered. That part wants to make sure I soak it up while I can.

Which is worse: reigning-in a foot-stomping tween, or regretting not getting enough cuddles in when I could? Is it possible that today’s excess equals tomorrow’s strong foundation rather than tomorrow’s rude awakening?

How Rough is Too Rough?

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How rough do you allow your kids to play? I intervene when someone gets hurt – always Sally – but when she engages in the roughhousing I let it go. I didn’t grow up roughhousing with my siblings. I have no prior experience with this behavior at all so my perspective could be way off. My kids’ play could be well within the range of normal, despite the fact that it seems over the top, drives me crazy, and appears violent and horrible. Well, at least highly unpleasant.

I can’t help but think that Luke is acting like a wild animal and poor Sally doesn’t know any better but to play that way with him. But that seems like a slanted, prejudiced, and unkind point of view against Luke. Is it just normal boy behavior and I’m being oversensitive about it? Or even normal child behavior and not a boy/girl issue? Or is Sally feeling pressure to play so physically? She is certainly no angel! She instigates Luke in completely annoying ways that only a little sister, or mosquito, can.

Maybe my grown-up worries and concepts about boys and girls are coloring my feelings about it unfairly. Maybe I’m actually being sexist. I wonder if I’d feel the same if they were both boys? I can’t help but feel like Sally wouldn’t want to play that way if left to her own devices. I know I never would have. I would have hated it. I couldn’t stand “wild” boys when I was a kid. (Truth is I still can’t, even though I’m mom to one. Which is likely part of the problem here.) I’m a girl and Sally’s a girl. So surely she feels the same?

Maybe it has nothing to do with her being a girl. Maybe she really does like playing that way, and not only because her bigger, stronger, influential brother has taught her that it’s “fun.” But, if she is just going along because that’s what he wants to do, will it translate into feeling pressure to let other people do things, physically, that she may not want to do in the future?

I always, ALWAYS make Luke stop when Sally says stop or no, even if she’s giggling when she says it.

Is this play harmful for her? Is it teaching her things about how and when she can assert herself with regards to her own body? Is it teaching her that she needs to relent if a boy wants to be really physical with her? Or is all of that totally unrelated and she is just wrestling with her brother, which is completely innocent and normal?

What is it teaching Luke, if anything, about what he can and should do with girls? Is it enough that I always make him stop when she says so? I talk about respect and trust. I ask Sally if she’s having fun. I tell her that she can refuse to play that way. (Then I say the same thing to Luke, just so it doesn’t appear that I’m assuming he’s the bully and she’s the victim, even though I am.)

Maybe I’m over-thinking the whole thing and they’re just being siblings and kids and not acting out scary gender role scenarios at all.

So, I ask you: how rough to you allow your kids to play?*

*(If your kids don’t play rough because they just never want to, please keep in mind that different kids have different personalities, interests, and energy. It must be tempting to judge me and my kids, but maybe this is one of those times to think, “This parenting issue does not pertain to me,” consider yourself lucky, and leave it at that.)