on not saying no
I do my very best never to say "no" or "don't" to Greta. Instead, I always try to phrase everything in a positive way. "Don't eat that" becomes "Eat this!" or "Hands to yourself, please," or something else that's a positive instruction rather than a prohibition.
This all started right after Greta was born. I remembered something that Catherine had said about the day care she worked in as a teenager. They were forbidden from saying negative things to the kids; everything had to be positive. Naturally, this gets guffaws from folks who believe that saying "no" to your kids is a necessary part of their upbringing. But before you start thinking that I'm just some lazy parent, or, worse, some pie-in-the-sky hippie who's raising a kid with no boundaries, stop to think that just about everything can be expressed in a positive way.
For instance, I, like other parents, would rather Greta not race out into the street as cars are whizzing by. I've found that the positive command "Greta, STOP!" uttered in a stentorian voice works wonderfully when the moment calls for it. I've also found that, in calmer moments, explaining that "the street is for cars; the sidewalk is for girls" is perfectly understandable and forms a nice rule for a one-year old (soon to be two-year-old) to live by.
If she's on a balcony and begins stepping through the bannister (which could easily accommodate her slipping through and falling 20 feet), I don't have to say "No." I can say "Keep your feet on the floor." If the instruction needs a little more teeth, I can even say, like I said today, "Greta, keep your feet on the floor, or else you'll have to come downstairs."
The life of a kid is bound left, right, top, and bottom. It must be frustrating to be constantly thwarted. One of the great treasures (and terrifying balancing acts) of being an adult is that the artificial boundaries of parental discipline are gone and one is left only with the real boundaries of life and the artificial though hopefully reality-conformed boundaries of self-discipline. As I see it, my job is to help Greta get from one set of boundaries to the other in the smoothest and most logical way possible.
So. Please be nice to other children. Leave your mother alone while she's resting. Come get some milk! Please throw the rock that way. Here comes a car. Wave to the car (so they know you see them). And those, with a thousand others, are just from today. I've found that, whether it makes any difference at all to the girl, this policy makes for a fascinating mental discipline for me. We often wonder how we're shaping our kids; I wonder how my rearing of Greta is shaping me.
This all started right after Greta was born. I remembered something that Catherine had said about the day care she worked in as a teenager. They were forbidden from saying negative things to the kids; everything had to be positive. Naturally, this gets guffaws from folks who believe that saying "no" to your kids is a necessary part of their upbringing. But before you start thinking that I'm just some lazy parent, or, worse, some pie-in-the-sky hippie who's raising a kid with no boundaries, stop to think that just about everything can be expressed in a positive way.
For instance, I, like other parents, would rather Greta not race out into the street as cars are whizzing by. I've found that the positive command "Greta, STOP!" uttered in a stentorian voice works wonderfully when the moment calls for it. I've also found that, in calmer moments, explaining that "the street is for cars; the sidewalk is for girls" is perfectly understandable and forms a nice rule for a one-year old (soon to be two-year-old) to live by.
If she's on a balcony and begins stepping through the bannister (which could easily accommodate her slipping through and falling 20 feet), I don't have to say "No." I can say "Keep your feet on the floor." If the instruction needs a little more teeth, I can even say, like I said today, "Greta, keep your feet on the floor, or else you'll have to come downstairs."
The life of a kid is bound left, right, top, and bottom. It must be frustrating to be constantly thwarted. One of the great treasures (and terrifying balancing acts) of being an adult is that the artificial boundaries of parental discipline are gone and one is left only with the real boundaries of life and the artificial though hopefully reality-conformed boundaries of self-discipline. As I see it, my job is to help Greta get from one set of boundaries to the other in the smoothest and most logical way possible.
So. Please be nice to other children. Leave your mother alone while she's resting. Come get some milk! Please throw the rock that way. Here comes a car. Wave to the car (so they know you see them). And those, with a thousand others, are just from today. I've found that, whether it makes any difference at all to the girl, this policy makes for a fascinating mental discipline for me. We often wonder how we're shaping our kids; I wonder how my rearing of Greta is shaping me.
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