Time for an oil change

Time for an oil change, I said to my grandson. It’s the family euphemism for a smelly nappy. Eden knew it and ran out of the room. He’s only two years old and still listens to his elders, but for some reason none of us can fathom he has a phobia about anybody except for his mother changing his nappy.

It’s a wonder he listens to us at all, really. We’re a bossy lot who feed him veggies instead of the chips he yearns for. We snatch him away from the swing and the seesaw just when he’s made a friend and enjoying himself and we put him to bed when he wants to keep on with story time.

So why does he do what he’s told? Right now it’s strictly speaking not necessary. Eden weighs not much more than a bag of potatoes so it’s easy for us adults to haul him off to bed whenever we please. I suspect that although we are the most benign of dictators it’s the fear factor coming into play. We’re so big and he’s so small, Eden senses that there’s always the chance that we might erupt and he’s not taking chances. Perhaps it’s the we-will-brook-no-disobedience tone of our voice that has him doing our bidding. I’m not sure what is going through his two year old mind but right now we have him thoroughly bamboozled. I’d like to pickle Eden in amber and keep him that way but as it’s not going to happen I think the second best option is to prepare us and him for his future.

As Eden gets older and goes to crèche, then kindergarten then school, force of habit and training will take over. One authority after another is going to tell him what to do and when to do it. But that sort of socialising process needs to begin with the adults in his family unit. That’s why I have been talking to Eden about the connexion between changing nappies and clean bottoms and telling him lovingly but firmly that he needs to keep still. He doesn’t like it but he’s getting the message that when he’s with me I’m in charge and that there’s a reason for what I’m doing.

That last is the trick. As he gets older he’s going to question our authority more often and we need to be steps ahead. Eden won’t want to go visit his grandma, or get dressed and ready for school, and he will want to play computer games before he’s done his homework. Tempting as it will be to bark out orders a better end result would be to combine parental authority with explanation. Don’t talk with your mouth full it’s bad manners, you have to do your homework if you’re going to get a good job and look after your parents in your old age.

Although my parents never did, their generation used to make a flat statement of ‘because I said so.’ It was supposed to put a full stop to all arguments and a stop to any alternate opinions. They just didn't want to hear it. I try to keep the lines of communication going, knowing that there is going to come a time when Eden will be taller than I am and won’t be told what to do. That’s I am going to want him to listen to reason.

Ask your Father

When I was a little girl parents used to say ‘ask your father’ or ‘ask your mother’ when they didn’t know the answer to a question, perhaps they still say it. The hope back then was that the other parent might know or at least take the brunt of a child’s disappointment if they didn’t. When it was my turn to be the authority on all things children I realised that if my parents had only got together and decided on a plan of action it would have been much easier on them when I reached my teens.

Because children are used to being told when to sleep, what to eat and how to behave, their logical conclusion is that we know everything there is to know. It’s hard to give that up, especially if you’ve heard your child tell a friend that mummy is clever. And the questions are quite easy at first: ‘where do babies come from, why is the sky blue, what happens if I mix blue and red’? It’s tempting to glow in the admiring light of your children eyes as you snap out the answers. But don’t do it, because when they are old enough to realise that we have fooled them, it’s too late for us to change tack. We have to wear their scorn and as the saying goes, or should go, there’s nothing a parent dreads more than a teenager who scorns. Quicker than you can say rampaging hormones, their peers have taken our place and we have become hopelessly dated and uninformed.

When my granddaughters want to know something that I don’t have the answer to, I admit it. I say that I will try and find out and I do. It’s much better for both of us that my grandchildren get to see me as a fallible adult. My hope is to ease them into the human condition and hope that later they will be kind to me.

Dezzy and Rachel’s dad deals with logistics and maths, and I help out with English and English related topics. Each adult in her life has a specialty the children can tap into. Anything in between gets the standard answer, ‘I don’t know, but I will find out for you.’ You do have to share some of the glory with teachers but that’s okay because teachers come and go, but parents and grandparents are a constant in their child’s life. That’s why it’s their job to get it right.

My grown up children still occasionally ask me what a word means. They once believed that I could spell any word and that I knew what each one meant. They were confident in getting an answer every time. When I could see where it was all heading, I taught them how to use the dictionary and a thesaurus.