Watching My Mouth
Now that Abbie can utter vaguely intelligible words, I have to watch my mouth. Abbie reminds me of this fact every time she incants “dammit” over a mess of spilled books.
I need to watch more than just curse words around her. Now that she’s processing language, I need to watch the ideas I infuse in her head. On the innocuous end of language, I need to be careful about speaking words that conjure things she might enjoy. If I need to work on the pool tonight, I tell mommy that I need to work on the “p-o-o-l”, painstakingly spelling out the word with all the difficulties of someone who hasn’t had to audibly spell since grade school. If Abbie hears the word “pool,” she’ll strip down to her diaper and grab her swim vest in anticipation of spending the next several hours swimming. When informed that we’re not going swimming, she instead spends the next several hours throwing a tantrum. We have to be similarly careful when discussing dining options lest Abbie catch the idea that she’s about to eat n-u-g-g-e-t-s.
At the other end of the spectrum, I have to watch the hurtful things I say. Not that I’m verbally abusive, bigoted, racist, Mel Gibson-emulating kind of guy, but I can say some things that in the spirit of humor that a 3-year-old won’t understand. For example, if mommy asks Abbie what she did today, I might answer for her “I watched my brothers be jerks.” That’s high comedy after you’ve spent the day surrounded by toddlers hitting, biting, and refusing to share, but I’ll be mortified if any of them decide that’s an appropriate answer to the question. They need to learn the correct response: “Nothing.”
I also need to watch what I say to the pets, whom I am comically verbally abusive towards, but it’s okay because they’re pets. I call our large cat names. Lardo. Super Chunk. Fatty Fat Fat Fat. Tubby McEatsalot. It’s all in good fun, especially since he doesn’t realize I’m mocking him. I don’t want the kids picking up those words to use around animals, though, or, heaven help us, other people.
Yesterday I encountered a new level of concepts I don’t want my children to learn. We were leaving the doctor’s room, which involves strapping the boys into the stroller while hoping Abbie doesn’t wander into any rooms with sensitive equipment or patients. While I tended to the boys, Abbie ran into the waiting room and started out the front doors. When I heard another mom telling her to come back, I rushed after her, catching her several feet outside the office. As I drug her back to the doctor’s room so I could finish strapping in the boys, I exchanged pleasantries with the waiting mother. She apologized for not stopping her, and said she told her to stop. I told her not to worry about it, that if Abbie wouldn’t listen to me, a stranger wouldn’t have much chance.
Maybe that was damaging to Abbie’s psyche, exposing her to the idea that she’s a bad listener. I don’t think that was over any line, though, I was merely telling her that she needs to listen better, and as subtly as possible with a 3-year-old.
Next, the mother commented on how cute she is. When she called Abbie a “sweetheart,” I responded, “That’s one way to put it.”
Maybe that was a little hurtful, implying that I don’t think she’s a “sweetheart,” but I hope it went over her head. If not, it was just a little nudge toward behaving better.
After hearing my subtle disagreement, the mother asked, “want to trade?” In front of her 12-year-old son.
I’m guessing that was a little hurtful, especially since the boy looked like he wanted to retort but didn’t know what to say. I didn’t know what to say either. I didn’t want to agree with her, but I didn’t want to show up this woman, spending our 10-second encounter proving I love my kids more than she does.
I chuckled “not now,” and hurried back to the boys. That seemed the strongest rebuff possible without turning the situation into some droll love-off.* It worked to keep the atmosphere light while still effectively saying “no.” I use the same tactic when Abbie decides she wants j-u-i-c-e.
* In retrospect, saying “I wouldn’t trade her for anything” with a smile would’ve worked as well. I’ll keep that in mind if I find a time machine.
I need to watch more than just curse words around her. Now that she’s processing language, I need to watch the ideas I infuse in her head. On the innocuous end of language, I need to be careful about speaking words that conjure things she might enjoy. If I need to work on the pool tonight, I tell mommy that I need to work on the “p-o-o-l”, painstakingly spelling out the word with all the difficulties of someone who hasn’t had to audibly spell since grade school. If Abbie hears the word “pool,” she’ll strip down to her diaper and grab her swim vest in anticipation of spending the next several hours swimming. When informed that we’re not going swimming, she instead spends the next several hours throwing a tantrum. We have to be similarly careful when discussing dining options lest Abbie catch the idea that she’s about to eat n-u-g-g-e-t-s.
At the other end of the spectrum, I have to watch the hurtful things I say. Not that I’m verbally abusive, bigoted, racist, Mel Gibson-emulating kind of guy, but I can say some things that in the spirit of humor that a 3-year-old won’t understand. For example, if mommy asks Abbie what she did today, I might answer for her “I watched my brothers be jerks.” That’s high comedy after you’ve spent the day surrounded by toddlers hitting, biting, and refusing to share, but I’ll be mortified if any of them decide that’s an appropriate answer to the question. They need to learn the correct response: “Nothing.”
I also need to watch what I say to the pets, whom I am comically verbally abusive towards, but it’s okay because they’re pets. I call our large cat names. Lardo. Super Chunk. Fatty Fat Fat Fat. Tubby McEatsalot. It’s all in good fun, especially since he doesn’t realize I’m mocking him. I don’t want the kids picking up those words to use around animals, though, or, heaven help us, other people.
Yesterday I encountered a new level of concepts I don’t want my children to learn. We were leaving the doctor’s room, which involves strapping the boys into the stroller while hoping Abbie doesn’t wander into any rooms with sensitive equipment or patients. While I tended to the boys, Abbie ran into the waiting room and started out the front doors. When I heard another mom telling her to come back, I rushed after her, catching her several feet outside the office. As I drug her back to the doctor’s room so I could finish strapping in the boys, I exchanged pleasantries with the waiting mother. She apologized for not stopping her, and said she told her to stop. I told her not to worry about it, that if Abbie wouldn’t listen to me, a stranger wouldn’t have much chance.
Maybe that was damaging to Abbie’s psyche, exposing her to the idea that she’s a bad listener. I don’t think that was over any line, though, I was merely telling her that she needs to listen better, and as subtly as possible with a 3-year-old.
Next, the mother commented on how cute she is. When she called Abbie a “sweetheart,” I responded, “That’s one way to put it.”
Maybe that was a little hurtful, implying that I don’t think she’s a “sweetheart,” but I hope it went over her head. If not, it was just a little nudge toward behaving better.
After hearing my subtle disagreement, the mother asked, “want to trade?” In front of her 12-year-old son.
I’m guessing that was a little hurtful, especially since the boy looked like he wanted to retort but didn’t know what to say. I didn’t know what to say either. I didn’t want to agree with her, but I didn’t want to show up this woman, spending our 10-second encounter proving I love my kids more than she does.
I chuckled “not now,” and hurried back to the boys. That seemed the strongest rebuff possible without turning the situation into some droll love-off.* It worked to keep the atmosphere light while still effectively saying “no.” I use the same tactic when Abbie decides she wants j-u-i-c-e.
* In retrospect, saying “I wouldn’t trade her for anything” with a smile would’ve worked as well. I’ll keep that in mind if I find a time machine.
posted by Matt at
11:32 PM
3 Comments:
Not that I'm anywhere close to having all of the answers in parenting (even remotely), but be careful with what you say that you think could be "learning experiences" -- it can backfire and convince the kid that they're just that way (whatever you said) and not try to change. I made the mistake several months ago of saying in front of Evan that he can't jump (and clear the ground). Since then, he won't even try. If you ask him if he can jump, he just says "no, I can't" and that's it.
By
Anonymous, at 1:04 PM
I understand what you're saying, but I can see an upside to a child thinking he can't do something. Sometimes I wish I could convince the kids that they can't climb on furniture.
By
Matt, at 10:46 PM
I have one that I need to convince of that furniture one too. It is possible that telling Abbie she "can't" do things would work for her in a reverse psychology kind of way. That does not work for Evan. Backfires horribly. He just believes you that he can't (is not physically able to) do something and doesn't attempt it again. Makes me crabby when other people try to get him to do things that way (potty, eat, etc.) because I know it's just going to cause more problems.
By
Anonymous, at 2:01 PM
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