Toddler Tricks - 83: Parents, Use your Words

Problem:

Your kids want something that is impossible to give them, or they have to wait a minute for something, or you need them to eat before they do what they want, or any other variation of "Mom, I want," and then "no." Now they're screaming crying messes, and you're wondering why people even have children in the first place, and where did you go wrong that you can't even have a coherent conversation with a three and a half year old.

Solution:

Don't say no. I mean, mean no, but don't say that word. The moment you say no, you will not be able to say another thing without being drowned out by the pure anguish of cries accompanying a child who doesn't get what she wants. This is the training phase. They'll get over this. But right now, their brains hear the word no, and everything else crumbles around them. Their world disintegrates. This is something that students earning an early childhood education degree should understand as well.

And they want this to happen. If they're not going to get what they want, their next favorite choice is to break down about it. If you explain why they aren't getting it without using the word no, they'll repeat, they'll cajole, they'll beg. Until you forget that you're trying to teach them how to converse, verbalize their arguments, and have patience. Until you absentmindedly and because you think maybe they're not understanding you, say no. Then you've done it.

Not that your child shouldn't be able to hear the word no and just accept it, but as a teaching method, right now, the world allows them to shut their minds down, and no further learning will be done. Kids need to know why things happen or don't happen. That's why they ask why so often (I assume.) So, if you take out the culmination, instead of leading with it, you've got a better shot of helping them understand why some things must be and why others cannot be. No then starts to have meaning. They'll slowly come to understand that "no" has a purpose other than to piss them off. They'll hopefully begin to trust you. Or at least listen to you in public. Which is really all I ever hope for.


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No and Beyond

My girls turn two and a half next week.  For the past six months it seems like I have heard nothing but "no."

"Let's use the potty!"

"No!"

"Time to read stories in our room!"

"Un-uh."

"Can we take a bath?"

"No. No wet head. No!"

For a while, I thought, this is not so bad.  So what if they say no?  Good for them, asserting their ideas and independence.  We still do what Mommy says we're going to do, anyway.  Let them feel as if they have a bit of control for a few minutes.

Of course, within a few months, the whining began.  It starts around 8:30 a.m.  "Choco mook."

"No, not choco mook. We have to have our yogurt first."

"No yogoo. Choco mook."

"First yogurt. Then you can have chocolate milk if you're still hungry."

"No! Choco mook!"

Cue the face.  You know the face.

That's the face of doom, right there.  And the sounds that accompany that face are much worse.  I sometimes feel as if my ears will start bleeding from the pain of the toddler whine.  But, from their point of view, what else can they do?  They have what they feel is a valid point, and they are being ignored.  It's tyranny.  It's not their fault they wear their emotions on their sleeves.

Lately, though, I've been given a bit of a reprieve.  The babies have added another trick to their repetoire.  Sometimes, if they want to do something, and it's time for us to do something else, they will think around the problem.  They will use logic.  They are honing the skills we use every day as adults.

A few days ago, they wanted me to climb into the tunnels at the McDonald's playland.

"Mama, come in.  Mama, come!" They pulled on my hands.

"No, mama can't come.  She's too big."

"Have to!  Have to.  Mama, come on.  Have to!"

"Well, okay, but this will be our last time.  Mama will go in, and then we go home."

They suddenly changed their tune.

"No. Stay.  Too big, mama.  You stay.  Babies go in."

They thought my going into the tunnels was the factor that would make us go home, not realizing that it was simply time to go.  They saw their two choices: they could play with mama like they wanted but only once more, or they could play by themselves in the tunnel and go on forever.  They made an instantaneous choice and stuck to it.  They thought around what they perceived the problem to be.

Did I give in?  Not really.  We still went home.  But they did get another three or four go-rounds in there.  I don't look at it as spoiling them.  I look at it as rewarding them for their critical thinking development.

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