I always knew that I would be a parent some day. Parents are caretakers and disciplinarians. We provide guidance and boundaries. We are educators. That last part, being an educator, is perhaps the least understood aspect of parenthood — well, it was for me anyway. I suppose I always envisioned imparting my children with wisdom as well as a passion for the things I love and the freedom to pursue their own passions. Despite my belief that I had considered all of the variables, I clearly hadn’t; though at the time, nothing could have convinced me otherwise. I also never considered how much they would teach me.
For one, children want things constantly. Since they aren’t legally required to provide for themselves until age 18 (barring any special circumstances), there’s a good chance you will be their standby whenever needs and desires arise. Their requests can represent the completely mundane such as “what do you think Flower’s favorite color is?” Flower, of course, was my daughter’s favorite stuffed toy for a time — a leopard that she’d had since before she could walk. Your children will also fire off many more serious inquiries your way, with a bit of everything in between as well. Regardless of the magnitude of any of the queries you will receive, if the answer to anything is no, just say so. I know that can be much easier said than done at times due to variables such as location and surroundings — both human and non-human — but do your best. If you think children do not pick up on the inconsistent severity of punishments depending on all such variables, you have another thing coming.
Let us assume children are far more intelligent than most adults give them credit for. Since your children know they want things and they know they have to go to you for the things they want, they develop an uncanny sense of when to ask. Maybe you don’t have the time to provide an explanation to the inevitable followup questions to your “no” response or maybe it’s been a long day and you would rather leave them with an answer that scratches whatever itch they had. OR MAYBE it’s the day after Christmas and your three-year-old son is asking for your help for the ten-thousandth time in changing Bumble Bee and Optimus Prime from a car into a robot or vice-versa. I should tell you that these are not ordinary toys. These toys are the stuff of legend coming from the far east and it takes years to master their ways. I was still struggling mightily with the conversion on day two. Ten-thousand attempts was a drop in the bucket on the way to becoming a master.
It was in that moment that I decided to reveal the truth to my son: Optimus Prime and Bumble Bee want to remain how they are. How do I know? They told me. Nothing can be done because they’ve made their decision. Surely this logic is full-proof because he doesn’t want to upset Optimus Prime or Bumble Bee, and on top of everything else: it’s bedtime. I revel in my brilliance as my wife bestows the coveted pat on the back — which didn’t hurt the ego any.
The next day, my son brings me both of his toys and informs me that Optimus Prime and Bumble Bee want to be robots. It is their desire and my help is needed urgently. So much for my brilliance. Lesson learned: never underestimate a three-year-old’s ability to flip the script on you. On the bright side, I can now change that Optimus Prime toy back and forth in under a minute and the wife is an absolute whiz with Bumble Bee.