Easy way, hard way
That’s the actual phrase. It’s about healthy parenting where the kids are empowered to make good choices. So when it’s time for bed and the kids are resistant, you give them an "easy way, hard way" choice. The easy way to go to bed is that they go now willingly. With this option they get a story and some cuddle time. The hard way to go to bed is if they go later unwillingly. This option comes with no story and no cuddle time. Some negotiation is allowed to further empower your children know how to influence those who hold power over them in life.
Good stuff.
This is another thing I wish I could have learned about much sooner. My kids were adults by the time I came across this one. . .
Good stuff.
This is another thing I wish I could have learned about much sooner. My kids were adults by the time I came across this one. . .
posted by Ted at 6:11 AM
2 Comments:
The good thing? I'd never guess you were your father's son. The sins of the father have not been visited on the son. God has wrought a great transformation in you. And of all the men I know, you are the one I most look to for a model.
Both my mom and dad grew up in a conservative farm community where the razor strop was standard issue for parenting. I never experienced anything like you did -- mom and dad left their community in part because they hadn't felt quite comfortable being part of a small-town world where sobriety, propriety and moral rectitude weren't virtues, they were baselines for acceptance. Today, in the criminal justice system, they talk about "three strikes, you're out." But back then, you really only had one. And in a small town, everybody knew eveybody's business, so there was no hiding anything either. Add to that the fact tht most were of Swiss Mennonite descent and until WWII, spoke German in the home. English was their second language. So in a century dominated by two wars in which the "hun" was mortal enemy, it was no picnic. Truth be known, people were scared of the world without and so quite dependent on the insular community within. It was beat your kid into submission or see them shunned forever and cast out into the world of darkness.
Luckily, my grandfather on my mom's side was enough of a quiet rebel never to buy in. His father had been a harsh, cruel man. Grandpa reacted against that and, for his time, was a model of the sort of parenting you envision (although Grandma was known to wield the strap on vary rare occasions). My Dad was the preacher's kid, who -- it was rumored -- smoked, played cards and dated the English girls. That was three strikes and then some. When his dad died, Grandpa took him in and loved him like the son he'd never had. I don't think its going to far to say that Grandpa saved his life.
Just about evey smart thing my dad and mom ever did in dealing with me, they probably learned from Grandpa. I never heard the man raise his voice in anger, ever. In fact, I don't ever remember him outwardly angry at all. My dad, it is said, had a legendary temper as he grew up, but I only saw him let it get the best of him twice in my whole life. I'm sure that his time with Grandpa helped him -- and by extension, helped me.
I inherited the temper, of course, but also grew up with an admiration for the grandfather who, in a community that gave lip service to the Gospel, really tried to live into it. My dad, the butt of gossip for much of his early life, had a horror of that great community sin. I never heard him -- not once -- say an unkind or denigrating word about anyone. The older I get, the more I wish I had emulated them in these things. I'd sure like to think that someday my own two sons might write me an epitaph half so good.
Wow, Mike. Thanks so much for your affirmation. It's hard for me to see because I know that especially as a beginning parent, I certainly was tempted to give vent to my anger, and on occasion, did.
I love the way you write about your family. Your grandpa sounds like a cool guy.
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