It's often said that to get kids to listen to you, it's much better to whisper than to yell. But, in the instances where I would do such a thing, this never comes naturally. But, last week I had an instance that proved to me (and to the child involved), that silence was even better than whispering.
It just so happened on that fair Tuesday morning, that we had finished our breakfast and were buckling down for school time. We have moved school-ish activities to our larger living room now, and so all involved persons and belongings were getting things ready to start. For me this means bringing my coffee (now cold, already previously reheated, still no available chance for drinking) with me. I look forward to this time, because it means cuddling with each kid individually, reading collectively with them all (my favorite part of parenting, hands down!) and enjoying the sunshine through the 5 big windows we are blessed with in that room.
All was going well until...whoosh...a big ball came flying through the air and landed right on top of my coffee cup (set down about 1.2 seconds before the crash). The abrupt landing of the ball was followed by a rainbow of coffee flying across the couch, my chair, the bookshelf (and a good many books) and a nice, thorough heavy trail through the carpet.
The child who launched the ball was shocked at what happened. He stood there dumb-founded at his unfortunate luck wondering what his penance might be. I sat there dumb-founded at my unfortunate luck of no coffee, yet again. I probably sat there for 30 tick-tocking seconds wondering if I should yell, scream or wring his cute little neck, since he knows far better than to launch balls in the house. Especially when he was supposed to be getting out his schoolwork and studiously starting on it.
But, an amazing thing happened in those seconds of silence. I realized that I didn't regret any of my actions (as usual when I "fweak out"). And the guilty child was punished more by my silence than anything else I could have done. When I finally decided what to do, I just told him (calmly), "get a cloth and you know what to do." He did so and then we talked about it all and he apologized for his misdeeds.
We both laughed about it afterwards and agreed that he could not have had better aim in spilling that coffee. It made a perfect, beautiful rainbow as it was splashing everywhere. None of this dump over, seep down everywhere, boring type stuff. His spill had flair!
So, looking back, I think I'll try that approach again if the need arises. It was way more successful than nagging, whining, guilting or saying words that I'll likely regret. Have you ever tried silence?
