I feel like I’ve tried it all, the journey of molding and steering my children’s behavior a winding road of twisty turns and treacherous blind spots. I started out super positive, fully on-board the train of rewarding good behavior via carefully-crafted construction paper charts and sparkly stickers to memorialize “good choices.”
I was determined, upbeat, and consistent in my use of these charts. My children, however, were not. Excited about the charts one day, their attention turned to something else the next, more than willing to sacrifice a sparkly sticker for the thrill of a particularly egregious “sad choice,” the adrenaline rush of which was far more powerful than a tiny sheet of sparkly stars that could be earned later. Stupid little sparkly stars.
I jumped from that train pretty quickly, not long after I realized that I’m neither Mary Poppins nor Governess Maria, my irritation with little tiny people who refused to listen not suitable for G-rated audiences. Yes, I quickly tore down those charts and started threatening to take stuff away, desperate to find something that mattered enough to them that it would reveal itself as the counterweight to the joy of leaving wet towels on the floor or globs of toothpaste in the sink. This tactic, however, didn’t work either. My eight-year-old looking at the wet towel on his bedroom floor with a shoulder shrug and simple explanation. “I guess I forgot to pick it up.”
“Oh. I forgot.” If I had a dollar for the number of times I’ve heard those words, I’d be sailing on my personal yacht in the Caribbean right now drinking a margarita instead of coffee from a mug that quotes Edgar Allen Poe about the need to daydream (rather ironic, if you think about it). Then, it occurred to me. Maybe my kids did just simply forget. Maybe my two little crazy boys who swing from the rafters like monkeys aren’t trying to disobey. Maybe, just maybe, their gushy little minds aren’t yet developed enough to satisfy my expectations of multi-tasking, problem-solving, and the light that I so desperately want to go off in their head when they step over a wet towel on the floor. Once I came to this realization, I went to the store and bought myself a piece of poster board, intent on making a chart that was different than all the others.
And, there it now hangs, outside my boys’ rooms. Intended to be nothing other than a helpful reminder to them of the things that I need them to do throughout the day, the chart comes with no reward or negative consequence. Rather than get frustrated by having to repeat myself with a chore and behavior list that I feel like they should know by now, the chart does it for me. Silently and with no judgment; I have taken away their excuses and lightened my parental load. The chart that reads simply “Today, have I….?” has taken them at their word, providing a written reminder of the things that they claim too often to forget.
And, because my expectations of their behavior extends much wider than household chores, I have also included actions that I want to reinforce as a way of life. Use my manners. Make a friend smile. Hug my brother. I don’t remind them to do those things everyday, but I bet I wouldn’t have to, the chart simply documenting the kind hearts that I already know they have. Now, if we can just get them to naturally embrace picking up those wet towels…
