Fun With Play-Dough

Remember when your children were newborns? You held them in your arms and stared at them adoringly; you made a solid promise to love and cherish them forever, nothing bad would ever happen to them, you were going to be the best parent you could be. Maybe you even cried a little. All was well in the world.

Now look at you, as you’re standing at the bottom of the stairs, yelling at your six-year-old to come down here right now or you’ll regret it!!!

The six-year-old in questions has just announced: You are the worst parent ever! I don’t like you anymore! She is right, you are indeed the worst parent ever, because you have refused to play that stupid Barbie movie for the third time today; for the simple reason that it’s half an hour past bedtime. This was very unreasonable of you, and you should be ashamed. In her eyes it is as unforgivable as a catholic priest cavorting with a hooker. What on earth were you thinking? You, believing for some time now that parenting is just too much of a freaking minefield, decide it’s not worth it and walk away, leaving her traumatized and alone in her room, crying her beautiful eyes out.

What happened? Your warm and cozy home wasn’t supposed to turn into a bloody battlefield, at least not until your child entered the teenage years. Unfortunately, here it is: the dirty secret nobody has told you about; the Bad six-year-old has arrived, and she’s going to stay for a while.

I came home from some much needed girl friend time the other day. When I walked into the house, my three-year-old happily exclaimed: Mommy! He was obviously happy to see me, and we had a nice little conversation. It went something like this:

“Hi-mommy-hi-mommy-hi-mommy”

“Hi Baby! Did you miss me?”

“…”

“Can you give me a hug?”

“No.”

“Oh. Okay.”

“I don’t like you.”

“What?”

“I don’t like you.”

This is my good child. My other child, who is also sometimes a good child, was waiting for me in the living room. While I was gone, she had written me a letter. I find it helps our relationship tremendously if I leave for a few hours now and then; there are many things my husband does not know how to do, and for five minutes afterwards, my daughter appreciates all I do for her.  Five minutes isn’t much, but when you have a six-year-old, you take what you can get, and you’re grateful for it.

The letter said:

“Dear Mom,

Today is March 1^st, and if you want I will stop being naughty. All you have to do is tell me. And I love you.

-Love, Isabella.”

Of course, this is hardly a binding contract, and I doubt we’ll make it for 24 hours before we have our next run-in. I will give her a dress she doesn’t want to wear, or I will suggest a ponytail when she wants braids, or I will tell her to finish her salad when she’s clearly in the mood for ice cream. Parenting is tricky that way, and you’re constantly being tested. You have to prove that you still love your child when she’s throwing a temper tantrum. You still have to love her when she’s kicking her brother just for the fun of it, or when she –for the zillionth time- gets a hold of your make up and wipes it all over the bathroom mirror. And, most importantly, you still have to love her when she starts talking back.

Don’t laugh at that last one until you’ve experienced it. A First Grader who talks back is a freaking force of nature.

It’s true, toddlers love the word “No”, and they will throw a hissy when you try to wrestle them in that striped sweater for the annual family picture. However, they are still small, and can be physically overpowered. It may take some time, and they may be crying in that picture, but they’ll be doing it while wearing the damn sweater. The six-year-old, on the other hand, is a loaded gun. All I can say is, seek cover.

And try not to make too many decisions for them; let them do stupid things.

As long as they don’t hurt themselves or anybody else, let it go. Wearing ballet shoes when there’s three feet of snow, refusing to eat anything for three days straight, and not keeping track of their toys until their favorite Barbie cannot be found anywhere, are things that punish themselves eventually.  You won’t even have to do anything; it’s that easy.