In the past, I would engage my children in thoughtful discussions about their choices. For instance, if one of them decided to scale the banister and slide down like a character from a cartoon, I might have responded with something like:
“Absolutely not! I understand that looks fun on screen, but in reality, sliding down banisters isn’t safe. Can you explain why? Exactly! It’s dangerous. Banisters are meant to keep you steady while going up and down stairs. What could happen if you tried to slide and fell off? Yes! You’d get hurt. Can you think of safer options for sliding? A playground slide works! Excellent. Now, let’s wrap this lesson up with a hug.”
Charming, isn’t it? I was patient and nurturing, taking the time to guide my kids toward understanding important life lessons about safety, nutrition, and personal boundaries. After all, they are the ones living their lives.
However, my approach has shifted significantly, especially during the chaotic hours between dawn and dusk. Nowadays, I find myself relying on blunt, straightforward tactics. There’s not much time for thoughtful discourse when a child is about to engage in questionable activities, like attempting to bite the dog. Thus, I sometimes resort to sarcasm or passive-aggressive questions that highlight the obvious. These days, asking rhetorical questions has become my preferred strategy.
“Do we put toys in the toilet?”
“Do we throw cats?”
“Should you wash your hair with pudding?”
I suspect the reason I’ve grown less inclined to have “teaching moments” is that my kids often seem oblivious to common sense. They approach the world with a reckless abandon that defies logic. Walls become canvases for diaper cream art, shirtsleeves serve as makeshift handkerchiefs, and my sanity feels like a punching bag.
“Do we paint our sibling?”
“Are bookcases meant to be climbed like ladders?”
“Do people enjoy being farted on?”
Unintentionally, I’ve transformed into a provider of snacks and a source of rhetorical questions. Witnessing my children’s unpredictable behavior—such as their willingness to eat crayons—has forced me into this role.
“Do we eat dirt?”
“Are fingernail clippings toys?”
“Is it okay to poke someone in the eye?”
It feels as if I’m teaching a class on basic common sense to garden worms. I want to believe my children know the answers to these rhetorical queries (the answer is always “no”), but sometimes I wonder if they operate more like instinct-driven creatures than rational beings. “The sun is directly overhead,” my son might think, “it must be the perfect time to pee on the lawn.”
“Are umbrellas swords?”
“Are you an animal?”
“Do we keep things in our underwear?”
I’ve begun to draw attention to the most apparent truths, hoping to guide these “curly, dimpled lunatics,” as Ralph Waldo Emerson aptly described them, toward the realization that trampolines are for jumping, not for bouncing on their siblings. Yes, even if they are giggling.
“Should you lick the floor?”
“Do dogs wear shoes?”
“Does Mommy sit at the dinner table in the nude?”
It’s undeniably exhausting to constantly correct these little ones who seem to bumble through life making questionable choices. Yet, I cling to the hope, the kind only a mother can possess, that one day I won’t have to ask, “Does that belong in your nose?”
For more insights on navigating parenthood, check out our other posts, such as this one about at-home insemination kits, which can provide helpful guidance for family planning. If you’re looking for more information on methylmercury and its implications, consider visiting this resource. Additionally, for anyone exploring family-building options, this site is an excellent source of information.
Summary:
This article explores the shift in parenting strategies from detailed explanations to straightforward, rhetorical questions as parents grapple with the unpredictable behavior of their children. While once nurturing thoughtful discussions about safety and common sense, the reality of parenting often leads to quick corrections and sarcasm in the face of absurdity. The hope remains that one day these simple lessons will resonate with the next generation.