Family Life

We’ve been trying to teach the boys to tidy up their toys at the end of the day, without much success. Tonight Debbie asked them, commanded them, pleaded with them, and eventually started tidying up herself. She gave up when she realized the boys were untidying faster than she could tidy up. There are three boys, and only one Mum.

I felt things had gone too far. I told the boys they had five minutes to clean up the room, and anything left over would be put away. The first two minutes saw some energetic, positive activity. The next two minutes witnessed a stall in the proceedings. The fifth and final minute would have seen a reversal, had not Debbie shown compassion on the boys and jumped in to help tidy up. These kids have a short attention span.

When the allotted time was up, I came in with an empty laundry basket and stuffed it with everything that was not yet put away. Books, puzzles, games, toys, indiscriminately piled up. The boys were dismayed. I walked out with the basket and stored it in the attic. The boys were horrified, speechless at the enormity of their punishment. They stood perfectly still, with serious faces and big, round eyes as I explained why the toys had gone to the attic, that I would bring them back on Saturday, but that more toys would be exiled if they failed to tidy up tomorrow evening. I rarely get such complete, rapt attention from my children.

Grief struck once they realized that I had finished talking, and that no, the toys were not coming back tonight. There was stoic resignation from Joel. That boy has the capacity to cheerfully bear with adversity when (a) he knows he deserves it, and (b) there’s an end in sight (he hasn’t quite grasped the number of days between Tuesday and Saturday–for all he knows, the toys might come back tomorrow), and (c) his parents bear him no ill will.

Daniel was quite vocal. So desperate, in fact, that initially all he could do was run in erratic circles wailing at the top of his voice. Then came the cajoling, the recriminations, trying to appeal to my sense of fairness (”My body just can’t tidy up that fast! It’s not fair!”), trying to enlist his mother in his cause (”Mummy said we could play with…”), trying to convince me with logical argument. He wanted to be comforted, then he’d try and reason with me. When his words got him nowhere, he’d blow up and rant and rave. Then he’d calm down and want comforting again. And so it went, through several iterations.

The basket stayed in the attic.

I don’t think I’m a mean father, though you may disagree in the comments below. They lost a basket full of toys, but it seems like only a drop in the bucket compared to the toys they still have. And they’ll get the lost toys back. By bedtime both boys were cheerful, neither resentful nor bearing a grudge. I have great faith in their ability to learn a lesson, and I suspect that as the week goes on they’ll get better at promptly tidying up when asked.

This entry was posted on Tuesday, January 29th, 2008 at 8:19 pm. You can subscribe via RSS 2.0 feed to this post's comments. You can comment below, or link to this permanent URL from your own site. Your comments will be moderated if this is your first time, otherwise they will appear immediately. I reserve the right to delete inappropriate comments.