Every now and then I have a parenting moment where I find that something I've been doing to raise my kids has actually paid off. Just the other day, I had one such moment...
After a normal morning at home, it was time to make lunch. I gave the kids some choices for lunch and asked them what they wanted. Erica, whose morning had been less than wonderful and who was rather moody, loudly and rudely informed me that she wouldn't be eating lunch. The rule at our house is that skipping lunch also means skipping afternoon snack, which is usually enough to entice the kids to eat their lunch. But Erica was determined to stick it out and, as she informed me, she was "not going to eat again for the rest of the week." This was Tuesday. I was amused, but contained myself and settled for my standard answer of "it's your choice." I proceeded to make lunch for the other two kids and myself, and we sat down to have the prayer and eat lunch. Cue Erica. "I'm really hungry." I told her, politely, that I was sorry she was hungry but I had already made lunch and the time had passed for me to make more. Should she want something to eat, she was welcome to find some lunch food and make it herself. After moping around the kitchen and looking in the fridge and pantry, she decided on the rest of the leftover scrambled eggs I had warmed up for Cambria. She got a barstool and managed to find herself a bowl on a low enough shelf that she could reach it and proceeded to pour the 1/4 cup of scrambled eggs into the bowl and eat it. She also found herself a water bottle from the fridge and drank that. Not surprisingly, she wasn't full after eating such a scant meal, and out came the pouting and whining again, saying how difficult her life was because I didn't make her any lunch and she just couldn't make anything herself. I suggested she try making herself a sandwich, thinking she would make a boloney sandwich (which she knows how to make herself and which she asks for almost daily for lunch). Surprisingly, she got herself a piece of bread and the peanut butter and jelly and proceeded to make her own sandwich. The peanut butter was relatively easy to open and she had no problem getting it spread on the bread, but the jelly was another story. Try as she might, Erica just couldn't seem to get the lid off the jar. She asked me very politely to please help her but I, wanting to drive home the point I was trying to make, reminded her that I had already made lunch and that I was sorry she had made a poor choice but that I was sure she would make a better choice next time. So Erica turned to Isaac and asked if he could help take the lid off the jar. I watched in amusement, trying my best to stifle my laughter, as my 5-year-old daughter tried to bribe my 3-year-old son into opening the jar of jelly by telling him that if he could get it open she would give him "something really neat." He gave it a valiant effort, if you can call two fingers and a lot of grunting valiant, but to no avail. On stayed the lid, and Erica was forced to be content with a plain peanut butter sandwich. I was impressed that she had managed to get herself such a decent lunch, and also pleased that my teaching moment had gone as well as it had. As lunch was ending and Erica was putting away her dishes she said, to my satisfaction, that she was sad she had made such a poor choice at lunch time and that she hoped she would make a better choice at snack time so that Mommy could get her food for her.
These are the moments I realize my teaching methods, while often seeming futile, do actually work when done correctly. And I'm grateful to have learned a way to teach my children to think for themselves and make their own choices (within reason of course). And certainly thankful to have such funny stories to write about to remember on the days when the teaching doesn't seem to be going so well. :)