The Cold Metal Lesson

The chilly morning today reminded me of a story every parent can relate to…

It was the middle of February and we were having a moment. It’s the universal we of course. My littlest lady and I were disagreeing on what was appropriate attire for school on a balmy -20 degree day. Being the little fashionista that she is, she wanted a skirt and frilly top because those are staples for her. I told her I preferred pants and a long sleeved top because it was going to be a cold day. I watched the fire flash in her eyes as she weighed her options for going toe-to-toe over this.

This isn’t a battle I care to fight. My kids are pretty much allowed to wear whatever they want, as long as it follows these guidelines:

1. It must be clean. No digging through the laundry hamper to “rescue a top that isn’t quite dirty enough”.
2. It must fit properly. Clearly at 7 or 10 years old, your size 4 tank top isn’t going cover what it needs to.
3. It must be age and weather “appropriate”.

That’s it. Granted #3 is the one that they’re often trying to negotiate around, but a lively discussion normally ensues. And I know that those tennis-match conversations will definitely evolve with age and time. I don’t care so much if they match colors or patterns. Said daughter went thru a phase where polka dots matched polka dots and pink matched pink. Seems about right, yes? My oldest daughter went thru a year-long phase where all she wanted to wear was black t-shirts. She only had 2 and things were great when they were clean…sadly a week is not 2 days long. Not too long ago, my son went to the grocery store in jeans with a pink frilly skirt over top, a truck t-shirt and pink princess rubber boots. It was +25 outside and not raining. He looked awesome! I’ve always been of the mindset that kids need to be able to try different things so they can discover who they are and what they want to be.

We have entered into the age of helicopter parenting. I see it all the time. I’m the mom that chills out at the park while my kids run up and down the equipment. They know that slides and swings are for bums, not feet, and just because you can get yourself on top of the monkey bars doesn’t mean it’s a good idea to walk across them. They understand that they need to stay where I can see them and that if they can’t see me, I likely can’t see them either. Does this mean I don’t watch or look out for them? Of course not. But they need the chance to try things and figure out for themselves what’s fun and what’s not. I can run around after them telling them “Oh that’s not a good idea!” but that just means that they’ll probably just try it out at recess at school when I’m not there to stop them. I remember when I was in elementary school that my parents always used to tell me not to lick anything metal outside in the winter. So I didn’t…when they were around. I was about 6 when I decided to try and lick the swing set stand (made of metal of course) while I was waiting for my turn. Yeah I know it’s gross, but every kid does it. Of course my tongue stuck to it and I couldn’t pull it off. At that moment the bell rang and all the other kids started racing to line up at their doors, but I wasn’t going anywhere unless I could take the swings with me. Luckily a teacher radioed into the office for someone to bring out some hot water. A few minutes later, I was free and my tongue hurt like hell, but back to class I went. My teacher called my parents to let them know what happened and when I got home, they were waiting for me. Both of them smiled at me and asked how my tongue was. I was honest and said it still hurt. My dad said, “Won’t do that again, huh?” I shook my head NO and then he offered me an ice pack for my tongue, which I very politely refused.

My point with that story is that I had to figure it out for myself. Cold metal + moist tongue + winter = raw, sore tongue. And guess what? I never did it again.

I believe we don’t give kids enough credit for their smarts. For just moment, think of them like little adults. Parents need to wrap their heads around the fact that we are raising adults, not children. (Totally just rocked your world there, didn’t I?) They need the opportunity to decide some things for themselves. It empowers them. It teaches them. Good Decision = Good Outcome. Bad Decision = Bad Outcome. And in those moments, they also learn to own their decisions and the results from them. As adults, we don’t like being told what to do. I know in my case when someone tells me not to do something, I set out to prove them wrong. Why? Oh le sigh….I wish there was an easy answer to that, but let’s just say that I still like to figure things out for myself. Sometimes I figure it out the easy way and sometimes it’s the hard way. BUT either way, I still figure it out. Just like our kids will.

The mind blowing irony in any disagreement between parent and child is this: You work hard to raise your kids to be strong, independent and fabulous humans. Then you have that moment where you are consumed with frustration with your little one…for being exactly like…you. It’s a real kick in the pants, huh?

Once she figured out her options (and the fact that I wasn’t going to budge on this) she went back into her room to get dressed. I went downstairs to start breakfast. When she came down, she was wearing leggings (point:me), socks and a shirt that I’m pretty sure was bought to be a dress, but it had long sleeves (point: her). Well played my little friend. Well played.

I declare a win for both of us.