I love the way toddlers will unabashedly eat any morsel they may find. No, not just unabashedly but excitedly.
A rock-hard piece of month-old cereal bar dislodged from the crevice of the couch? Score!
And I will admit to using this gross, yet endearing in its innocence, habit to my advantage.
Say I am in the parking lot of the grocery store, the last of three errands we have run that morning, preparing to return home. Already I have extended my patience and practiced my compassionate parenting skills to my toddler to get her into her carseat to leave the house, to leave the bank, to leave the post office. Waiting, watching as she checks out the front seats of the van, wanders to the back seats, and puts her stuffed cow into her carseat.
“Honor the impulse,” Becoming the Parent You Want to Be says. Not my impulse, that is – hers. Her impulse to – what? – control her situation I guess. At three years old, controlling her situation seems to have a running theme: not doing whatever it may be that I want her to do. But I honor that: “Looks like you want to explore the car,” I say. She ignores me, and I can’t remember what the next step to resolving conflict and meeting both our needs might be. Using ‘I’ messages? “I am very hungry and I would like to go home and make lunch,” I say. I also take a few deep breaths. I acknowledge my 5-year-old with true gratefulness: “Isabel I am so proud of you for getting into your booster seat and buckling yourself in.”
Easy to Love, Difficult to Discipline says to give your child a choice so she feels in control. “Would you like to crawl into your carseat or jump into your carseat?” I ask. “I don’t want to crawl into my carseat or jump into my carseat,” she responds.
I won’t force Kaya into her seat. If I pick her up and put her into the carseat, she will s-c-r-e-a-m and wrench and kick, and if I actually wanted to buckle her in, I would have to restrain her with all my weight while she screamed and wrenched and kicked. She is so intense.
But look at Isabel, who hops right into her seat as soon as I slide open the van door. This too shall pass, this too shall pass … I remind myself. It is truly that uncontrollable impulse that drives Kaya, I have to remind myself. She doesn’t really care so much if she is in her carseat or not, all she cares is that she finds some sort of control over her little world. But what about my impulses? I think. What about my impulse to get into the driver’s seat as soon as I walk out to the car for once, to get into my seat without conflict for once, to just go home and get some lunch? I try to squelch the commentary in my head because it never helps the situation once it gets to my mouth. More deep breaths, then -
Suddenly I spot something poking out from under the bottom corner of her seat – the orange paw of a Cheddar Bunny! I snatch it up and wave it in front of Kaya – “Look what I found!” I exclaim, true excitement in my voice, as this could be it – the key to fending off the rearing of the screaming mommy monster. “It’s a Cheddar Bunny! When you are buckled in your seat, you can eat it.” And at the promise of that tiny morsel, she forgets her quest for control and climbs right into her carseat. I fasten her straps and give her the prize and she grins happily as she chews.
Of course the books on empathic and respectful parenting never suggest bribing as a solution to a conflict. Bribing doesn’t honor the child’s impulse or needs – it is a means to get the child to forget her impulse and meet the parent’s needs.
But sometimes I think she doesn’t really forget her impulses. Sometimes instead of honoring them, she may just want an honorable out. And a salty, cheesy, who-knows-how-old cracker – for a toddler, what could be more honorable than that?
