Herding Abbie
I can’t control Abbie; I can only hope to contain her. When we’re outside the home, she’s too good at going in her own direction, doing her own thing, finding someone else’s ball and calling it her own. If I’m not pushing a stroller while directing her, I can hold her hand or even carry her. I usually don’t have the luxury of a 2-to-3 adult-to-child ratio to help corral the kids, and Abbie is too good at squirming out of a one-handed grip, so I need to use some tricks to walk us to our destination quickly and safely, and I’ve already discovered that yelling doesn’t work.
Holding her hand also doesn’t work well. She is too talented at making a nuisance of herself when I hold her hand. She might stop cold, almost daring me to drag her by her feeble arm joints. She might twist, pry, and squirm out of my grip before running in the opposite direction. Her favorite tactic, though, is to turn around and walk backwards while I hold her hand. She does this partially to stare at and presumably enjoy a little more whatever it is I’m dragging her away from, usually the neighbor’s sidewalk chalk. Mostly she does this because she can’t walk backwards very fast, so I have to cut her some slack and let her move slowly. Sometimes I’ll even let go of her hand and walk ahead of her since I’m in a hurry, which allows to her run back to the sidewalk chalk.
If I’m serious about keeping her moving, I’ll put the palm of my hand to the back of her hand and push her along the way. I’d think it would be easy for her to escape my hand by spinning away like a defensive lineman or collapsing into a toddler tantrum ball, but she hasn’t discovered these tricks yet, possibly because she doesn’t pay attention when daddy turns on a football game. She just keeps moving in the direction I’m pushing her, all the while holding a facial expression that says I’m going to pay when she gets access to a credit card and a mall.
In certain situations I can use a prop. When we’re walking to and from the park, I use her bouncy ball to keep her by my side. Sometimes I can hold it out in front of her like a donkey chasing a carrot, and she’ll run all the way from the car to the swings. She’s smarter than a donkey, which I suppose is a good thing, so I usually have to work harder to move her where I want. Usually this involves bouncing the ball just in front of her as we move, though she can move fast enough to catch the ball, or at least inadvertently kick it under a parked car. Sometimes I’ll kick the ball and implore her to “go get it.” This works great for getting her into the park, except for when I shank it into the tree.
When we’re in the backyard, I can use the dog as the prop. Sometimes Abbie wanders too far from our house, and with the few hundred feet of fenced in shared backyard that’s not hard to do. When she does, I need to direct her back to the house, often while carrying a brother to keep him from eating backyard flora. The best way to do this is to command our dog, which’s never far from Abbie due to the frequent potential for dropped food, to go back to the house. When she takes off, I implore Abbie to “go get the dog.” She always starts chasing the dog on her way back to the house, giggling the whole way, and forgetting about the sidewalk chalk. It helps that our dog stops when she runs too far ahead, possibly because she’s waiting for us to catch up, but probably because she wants to be sure I’m serious about making her go back to the house.
When all else fails I can try yelling. It doesn’t make her move in the desired direction, but it at least helps me feel better.
Holding her hand also doesn’t work well. She is too talented at making a nuisance of herself when I hold her hand. She might stop cold, almost daring me to drag her by her feeble arm joints. She might twist, pry, and squirm out of my grip before running in the opposite direction. Her favorite tactic, though, is to turn around and walk backwards while I hold her hand. She does this partially to stare at and presumably enjoy a little more whatever it is I’m dragging her away from, usually the neighbor’s sidewalk chalk. Mostly she does this because she can’t walk backwards very fast, so I have to cut her some slack and let her move slowly. Sometimes I’ll even let go of her hand and walk ahead of her since I’m in a hurry, which allows to her run back to the sidewalk chalk.
If I’m serious about keeping her moving, I’ll put the palm of my hand to the back of her hand and push her along the way. I’d think it would be easy for her to escape my hand by spinning away like a defensive lineman or collapsing into a toddler tantrum ball, but she hasn’t discovered these tricks yet, possibly because she doesn’t pay attention when daddy turns on a football game. She just keeps moving in the direction I’m pushing her, all the while holding a facial expression that says I’m going to pay when she gets access to a credit card and a mall.
In certain situations I can use a prop. When we’re walking to and from the park, I use her bouncy ball to keep her by my side. Sometimes I can hold it out in front of her like a donkey chasing a carrot, and she’ll run all the way from the car to the swings. She’s smarter than a donkey, which I suppose is a good thing, so I usually have to work harder to move her where I want. Usually this involves bouncing the ball just in front of her as we move, though she can move fast enough to catch the ball, or at least inadvertently kick it under a parked car. Sometimes I’ll kick the ball and implore her to “go get it.” This works great for getting her into the park, except for when I shank it into the tree.
When we’re in the backyard, I can use the dog as the prop. Sometimes Abbie wanders too far from our house, and with the few hundred feet of fenced in shared backyard that’s not hard to do. When she does, I need to direct her back to the house, often while carrying a brother to keep him from eating backyard flora. The best way to do this is to command our dog, which’s never far from Abbie due to the frequent potential for dropped food, to go back to the house. When she takes off, I implore Abbie to “go get the dog.” She always starts chasing the dog on her way back to the house, giggling the whole way, and forgetting about the sidewalk chalk. It helps that our dog stops when she runs too far ahead, possibly because she’s waiting for us to catch up, but probably because she wants to be sure I’m serious about making her go back to the house.
When all else fails I can try yelling. It doesn’t make her move in the desired direction, but it at least helps me feel better.
posted by Matt at
11:37 PM
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