“Do you think we should buy me that?”, asked my three-year-old, with a cheeky grin on his face, the other day. Now, we all know what he actually meant by that question. He had noticed another child’s helmet, and thought it was really cool. Indeed, it was cool. But so is his helmet – one that he was gifted about a year ago, and actually is still on the big side for him; turns out we took the long-term view with this particular purchase!
He looked at me expectantly, with his big blue eyes, fully wanting (and most likely expecting!) that I would say “yes, of course we should!”. But I found myself taken by surprise at the request. This was happening at school pick up time, about two seconds after he had run out to me. I stumbled over what to say to him, and ultimately told him enthusiastically “well you have a really cool helmet too, don’t you!”. His retort was, of course, that the other little boy’s helmet was cooler. I responded by telling him that he can have a new helmet when he outgrows his current one. He was not totally satisfied with this response but, thankfully, is still at the age where he is relatively easily distracted – and so we promptly moved into snack time. Crisis averted.
Like most parents, I would assume, I face a barrage of requests each day from my children – from “can I have [new toy of some description]” to “can I watch (more) TV”, to “can I have another [insert relevant chocolatey treat]”... the list goes on – and I find this hard to navigate, feeling that I spend much of my time saying no. Particularly at this time of year, when expectations are heightened and Christmas is just around the corner, these requests can feel even more relentless.
I love that children say what they think and want without any filters. I love that my three-year-old asked me without hesitation if I think he should have that same helmet as his friend. It was, in one sense, adorable. But this is in part why it can feel hard to say ‘no’, especially when I feel I am saying it so often.
Thinking specifically of their requests for new things, I realise that it is a natural inclination to want to say “yes, of course”, knowing the delight that the fulfillment of said request will bring. But it would neither be practical nor beneficial in the long run to give in to their every (or every other, or every third…) request, hence why ‘no’ often has to be the answer. Indeed, perspective is key here to realising that in five minutes said request will be forgotten anyway, and a new request will have taken its place.
My current strategy these days, which I’ve been using since about September, when faced with audacious requests such as the above, is “let’s put it on your Christmas list”. At the moment this is working well, with my six-year-old too. And when I say that it’s working well, what I mean is that my children are satisfied with that response and do not ask again (at least for a while.)
I have to admit though, that this strategy is more for me than for them, to help me deal with this daily onslaught of demands, and to give me a way to acknowledge their requests without saying ‘no’, but also not saying ‘yes’.
I have my suspicions that this approach has its flaws, not least because it helps me to avoid saying ‘no’ as much as I’d otherwise have to (although my children do naturally provide me with many other opportunities each day to enable me to practise saying ‘no’ to them); but I, like many parents I know, am simply learning as I go, and trying to get through one day at a time, managing each challenge as it comes, and doing my best.
This line spectacularly failed me at the Christmas market the other week. From the moment we stepped foot into the market at Gëlle Fra, we were faced with a constant “can we go on this”, “can we buy that”, “can we do that again”...and the list went on. Yes, of course, what else should we expect in such a situation? But nonetheless, after some time, my husband and I looked at each other wearily.
In that moment, my “put it on your Christmas list” approach was of no use. We had to draw a line, and eventually just say the word: no. It did not go down well. They could not (or did not want to?) get their heads around why they could not go on the trampoline again, or have churros as well as hot dogs and chips? Why were we saying ‘no’ to another turn on the giant slide – our explanations were not satisfactory.
We tried our best to explain that they needed to be grateful for what they had done, and for how much fun we had had, and not to focus on what we had not done – something I clearly remember my mother talking to me about as a much older child... I wonder where they get it from!
