Where to Draw the Line with Kids
The other morning, Hootie-Hoo came downstairs with a handlebar mustache and a goatee drawn on his face in magic marker. “I don’t know how I do that in my sleep, Mama,” he said innocently, and I looked over at Brevitt, who gave me his huge mischievous smile. Somehow he had convinced his little brother that he’d drawn on his own face in his sleep. It was to be our little secret.
But Hootie-Hoo is getting a little fed up with his “problem,” because now Axel is following Thumper’s lead and drawing on his brother’s face in his sleep too. It’s time for the talk.
Thumper is pushing his boundaries, and I’m doing all I can to hang in there and teach him to listen to authority and stay out of trouble. I find nighttime is our best time to communicate. “Anybody want to take a walk with me and Muki?” I called out before stepping into the dark for a beautiful summer evening walk around the neighborhood. Silence. So I left without my little male companions. Ten minutes later I heard, “Mommmmyyy!” and I called out my signature bird cry so Thumper could run toward my voice. He ran up beside me and quickly grabbed my hand, both afraid of and exhilarated by the night sky and the shadows lurking in the dark.
Soon after, we heard screaming and crying: another one of my children disturbing the neighborhood. “Poor neighbors,” Thumper squealed with delight. It was Axel, who had finished the project he’d been engrossed in and panicked when he discovered he’d been left all alone in the house. Only he wasn’t alone. Baddy was upstairs reading to Hootie-Hoo before bed and was either ignoring Axel’s screams or somehow didn’t hear him. Husbands are talented that way, screening out noise.
Shouting back to Axel from across the neighborhood, we told him to meet us at the fence at the end of the field we always walk through. Thumper’s anxiety set in as he worried about Axel alone in the dark, and we raced faster and faster until we found him, traumatized at being abandoned and pedaling his bike barefoot at top speed in his oversized Homer Simpson pajamas. Thumper put his arm around Axel and told him everything was OK.
Raising Boys
Clinical psychologist Dr. William Pollack, author of Real Boys, has said that research shows that if a boy has just one adult he can open up to without shame, one adult who cares about him, listens and keeps an eye out for him, he’s more likely to be healthy, happy, open and successful, and less likely to be depressed or violent. It seems like such a simple task.
“Lie down with me, Mommy. You need to spend time with me,” Thumper said the night before he left for Water Ramp Camp, a program run by our local Aspen Valley Ski Club.
He was working me. There’s such a fine line between sticking to the bedtime routine and taking that precious alone time to connect with your child, because as soon as I’m horizontal, exhaustion sets in fast.
“Tickle my back,” he said, and as I did, a flood of emotions and pent-up thoughts poured out of him. “Today you said I was not growing up to your and Daddy’s expectations, and that made me really sad.”
“Thumper, I did not say that today. I said that in the past year you’ve been doing your best to defy the requests of your parents and teachers, and that it’s important for you to learn to respect authority.”
How interesting that he had processed the information so negatively and so differently from what I intended, and I was glad I had a chance to explain further why he shouldn’t push his luck.
We fell asleep with my hand tickling his back, and the next day, as he climbed into the big, black, ominous van with eleven other boys headed to camp, I was so glad we had connected the night before. When I climbed in to say goodbye to my tough little boy, I said, “I won’t embarrass you in front of your friends and tell you that I love you.” I thought I was so funny, but my sweet boy who holds my hand in the dark did not, and all I got was a wave and a final glimpse of Thumper’s flushed cheeks.
As I drove away, I hoped our conversation would have a lasting impact. Children need boundaries, especially boys. The question is when to let them stretch those boundaries and when to draw the line… and not on Hootie-Hoo’s face.
