The baby is ten. I’ve been parenting for over 18 years now, been through all the nonsense and the poop and the puke, and I’m down to one last, not-a-teenager baby.
She’s ten.
Here’s the problem with being the baby of four kids. When three of the four kids DON’T cry and drool, they DON’T want someone to make them breakfast and lunch every day, they DON’T still leave Calico Critter crap on the ground for me to step on barefoot, it’s hard to remember that everyone was ten once. She’s just the last ten-year-old.
This morning during scripture study Georgia openly rolled her eyes at us. Like, over-exaggerated, I’ve-been-watching-too-much-disney-channel eye rolling. I gave her a chance to apologize. She did, WHILE ROLLING HER EYES AGAIN. So she got a Responsibility Chore.
This is a little parenting technique my sister Jenny taught me many moons ago. When a kid screws up, then they continue to screw up, you give them a Responsibility Chore. These are the chores mothers HATE to do. Things like scrubbing out all trash cans in the house, or wiping down all the baseboards. If the kid protests, they get a second chore. Then a third, and so on, until they hush their reckless mouth and get to work.
Georgia drew the “clean out under the kitchen sink” card–it’s a doozy. So she did what all babies do best. She cried.
And cried and cried and drooled and puddled and cried some more.
So I gave her a second cupboard, and then a third. Finally she stopped begging to be released from her responsibility and resorted to good old, “Everybody HATES me!” weeping while she clawed the flotsam out from under the detestable kitchen sink. I set a timer for ten minutes to come and check.
It has been 58 minutes and she is finally finished with cupboard #1. I haven’t gone toe to toe like this with her for a while (obviously). I literally had to go stand in the garage and blast my music at one point so I wouldn’t yell at her for slobbering all over my kitchen floor and NOT working. When I finally went in and praised her seven minutes ago, then pointed out her NEXT cupboard, the water works started again. I thought I was going to lose my mind.
However, I want you to know that she is quietly cleaning cupboard number two and there appears to be no additional crying coming from that room. I actually hear her reorganizing the pots and pans–and she isn’t throwing them–
UPDATE – SHE JUST CAME IN AND APOLOGIZED FOR BEING RUDE AND HUGGED ME. Then she asked if she could please not do the third cupboard…
This is where we often fail. We give in. They’re cute. They did kind of good there. They’re…the baby.
Don’t give in to the baby.
I lovingly walked into the kitchen, inspected her work, told her she’s done great, and pointed to the third cupboard. “One more sister, you’ll be done in five minutes!” She nodded at me, and headed back to work. With. No. Tears.
Parents, Romans, countrymen, I am here to remind us all that the baby needs to be parented as well. And my old techniques? The ones I kind of forgot because my older kids are mostly great? They still get the job done.
Don’t give in to the baby. Don’t EVER give in to the baby.