Didn’t I tell you not to do that?

A while ago I wrote a post about needing to discipline my Bean. A few months have since passed and I thought I would share my progress, and the lessons I have learned along the way, with all of you. Before I dive right into the various scenarios however, I thought I should first give you some background about certain aspects of my personality:

I am a perfectionist control freak, convinced that I can control every aspect of my life so that everything is always exactly as it should be, exactly as I have planned it. Being this person, I am of course also a neat freak obsessed with cleanliness: everything has its place in the house and if something is even slightly out of place, I go a little bit mad. Although I mostly manage to control this obsession, I do sometimes get into these tunnel-vision-like cleaning modes, when I dart around the house like a meerkat, my hawk-like vision zooming in on messy or dirty spots, and I do not rest until everything is just perfect.

Now, imagine my surprise when Bean arrived with his very own strong-willed personality, meaning that although he does sometimes listen, he often decides that his way is the better way and subsequently simply ignores his mother’s attempts at discipline (something he inherited from me by the way). This of course infuriates and frustrates me and although I do recognise the behaviour in myself, I often lose my patience and then always feel guilty almost immediately after.

You could reason that he simply does not know what the word ‘no’ means but Bean definitely does. Yesterday for example, I was on the toilet and Bean, not wanting me to ever feel alone, graciously decided to be my audience. I realised that there was no toilet paper left and so I asked Bean to fetch a roll from our second bathroom. Let me just add here that he is well aware of what toilet paper is and where it is kept – to my dismay he loves playing with it and it does not matter where I hide this über-desirable toy, he will find it. But back to the story at hand: as I asked my son for help, he looked at me, his eyes starting to crinkle into a smile and responded quite emphatically, ‘No!’, after which he started to giggle gleefully, fully aware of what he had just said.

Bean has recently started the habit of rushing off to our TV room sofa and climbing onto it, whenever I give him a snack. This of course means that he smears whatever snack is in his hand into the suede fabric as he climbs this specific mountain. Once he makes it to the top, he proudly smiles at me and sits down to eat. As this is quite endearing, I have decided to leave him be (against my own rules, but, he does stay off the other sofas and chairs, I persuade myself) and in order to appease my own neat freak tendencies, I usually hover around him, wet cloth in hand, ready to clean up any mess. So, the other day, I gave Bean an ice lolly with a word of warning that this particular snack can only be eaten in the kitchen. As I was preparing dinner, my back turned, I however noticed that my sweet child was slowly edging away from the kitchen into the direction of his much-loved sofa. I admonished him with another word of warning and as he came toward the kitchen, I turned my attention back to cooking dinner, confident that he had listened. About five minutes later, I looked up and glanced over to the sofa, only to stare straight into my son’s big blue eyes, the sofa now a mess of melted orange juice. I was angry. Immediately I stormed over to him, told him, ‘No!’ in my sternest voice, grabbed the remainder of the ice lolly and stormed back into the kitchen. Bean, baffled, stared at me until all of a sudden he climbed off the sofa, ran over to me in the kitchen, grabbed the wet cloth out of my hand, ran back to the sofa and started to clean! My son, broad chested, with a cheeky grin, looked at me proudly and I had to laugh.  I had warned him that I didn’t want a mess on the sofa after all.

First lesson learnt: be a better example. Bean started to eat on ‘his’ sofa, because he sees A and I doing it all the time and he simply cleaned up the mess because I am forever cleaning. (On a side note, he has started to clean everything all the time, which makes me wonder how often I run around the house in meerkat mode with crazy eyes).

A few days after the sofa incident, my husband and I were both sitting at the dining room table, working through our taxes, while Bean was running around the lounge, playing. We interacted with him every now and then but for the most part he was delivering his usual monologue while entertaining himself. Suddenly it became quiet (yes, that peaceful sound everyone yearns for until they have a toddler to contend with) and my husband looked up, his eyes expanding in surprise. I turned around quickly, only to find Bean casually sitting on our coffee table, peacefully pulling apart my plants. Instead of being angry, I laughed – my little boy was now able climb on top of the table! I immediately grabbed a camera and started snapping away, until I realised I should actually be angry. My smile faded and I gently asked him to get down (which he did without a fight).

Second lesson learnt: it’s OK to let kids be kids sometimes. I will of course teach him (consistently) that he should not climb onto tables from now on, but in that moment, he was simply a little boy, learning a new skill. Sometimes we just need to let go.

Being a toddler who struggles to communicate his needs and wants effectively, Bean often gets frustrated, so much so that he started hitting me a while ago. This is, of course, not acceptable, but I soon realised that raising my voice and shouting at him in these situations only seemed to make things worse. So, instead, I started to teach him a positive action (a loving stroke) to replace the hit whenever he raised his hand. I consistently did this (and I still do it to this day) and he has stopped hitting me all together.

Third lesson learnt: be consistent and respond positively to negative actions.

Although I am here to teach my son life skills, he in turn teaches me about life and one of the biggest and most challenging lessons I am now faced with is that everything in life does not have to be perfect. Although there need to be certain boundaries and certain rules in life, it’s OK if things are not always 100% as planned. Kids need to explore and learn and they cannot do this if they are always being controlled and always being placed into moulds.

Let them break the mould every now and again – with our positive guidance they will create their own moulds soon enough.



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