(Alternate title: Thank God my parents did not think of this one...)
Although I cannot take credit for thinking up the following consequence of poor behavior, I can say that it is extremely effective and sometimes makes me chuckle...ok, maybe it makes me laugh so much that tears run down my cheek...does that make me a bad parent? I can justify my behavior by the success of the "time" for the "crime," though, which would make me a good parent....right? Don't answer that, I'll just keep believing its true.
First, let me describe the consequence; in a word, "stairs" aka, "steps." Never before has one simple word brought a temper tantrum to such an abrupt halt for a ten year old boy. Usually, just the mention of "stairs" is enough to stop his misdemeanors cold, but if he carries on, he must go up and down the staircase for the amount determined by the boss (Mom and/or Dad). The total amount of stairs is based on his actions that led to the mentioning of the terrible word, by said boss. In other words, if he really messes up, he gets lots of stairs, which he hates...of course.
One "dose" of the stairs equals a trip up and down the staircase. He must put both feet on the floor at the top of the steps, and at the bottom, before one stair can be counted. These rules are not to be broken and must be enforced. In addition (this one was my genius at work), he must not touch the walls of the staircase at any time, or he will have to do the whole stair over - this has since eliminated any and all fingerprints about four feet above the floor in the staircase! (He is, however, allowed to use the bannister since his mother recently fell down those stairs, broke her ankle and now has a huge phobia about it...)
We do not use the stairs every time, and we do not abuse them either. The stairs can be done all at once, or little by little, but the catch is that he is on complete and total restriction until all stairs are complete. If he chooses to wait a day, that is fine, but he gets absolutely no privileges until he pays his dues. In the event that we choose not to sentence him to stairs, he gets to alphabetize the bookcase or the CD case (I own over 800 CDs and my wife has close to that many books), sometimes by author's last name, sometimes by author's third letter of last name, or sometimes by title. Dirty words coming out of his mouth? He gets to clean the trash can...and it needs to be spotless. In a nutshell, you don't need stairs to apply the method! Whatever it is, the time fits the crime.
When he is in the process of completing the stairs, he is usually moaning and groaning about the mean person who thought up the consequence of stairs and how they must love to torture kids (I think that person is a genius). This alone is enough to bring a smile to my face, but not because I am sadistic; rather, I smile because I know he is thinking about his actions that led to the stairs. I try to make him realize there is a reaction to every action and that he needs to be aware of his part in that reaction, hoping to teach him accountability, a trait that we do not see often in today's society. I can almost see his mind gears turning round and round, making sense of the whole situation...which is a huge relief to a parent whose kid is smarter than he is.
When he has completed the steps, he must (on his own) apologize, name the reason for the apology, and ask for forgiveness.
Ironically, in a sense, we are breaking him down, just to rebuild him back up again. This time we can make him better, stronger, faster...but we are not going to call him Steve Austin. (Yes, you have to be of a certain age of generation to get that reference!) The point is not to make him complete unjustified physical work, but to make him think twice before he acts the next time. The stairs provides a good source of exercise (so that candy he just took without asking is now exercised off) and a tangible consequence.
Tonight, he earned 30 stairs and alphabetizing two shelves of books. I'm sure it won't be the last time he does a round of stairs, but at least it has made him think a little bit before he breaks a rule, which means he is learning. Now, he is determining if the crime is worth the time, before he tries to get away with something. Which is exactly why I'm so thankful to have found this parenting tool...I was running out of ideas! And yes, I am VERY happy my parents did not have this tool when I was a kid!
UPDATE - (Can this really be an "update" if I neglected to post the above when I actually wrote it - about eight months ago?)
The steps method has proven to be very useful and has become a solid method of showing the crime is not always worth the time. For example, one of our rules is that the fridge in the garage is off-limits. This is where we store any goodies such as cake, ice cream, and yummies that need to be controlled. The payment for stealing something from that fridge was, typically, 25 steps. One day, however, about a month ago, my son decided the cake in the fridge was worth the 25 steps. He also decided he was going to confess right away. Kudos to him for being honest. The conversation went something like this:
Son - Dad, I took some cake from the fridge this morning. Should I do my 25 steps now?
Me - No, but you can do your 50 steps, now.
Son - WHAT? It is supposed to be 25 steps!!!
Me - No, it is what we decide it should be.
Son - BUT....BUT...
Me - The idea is to get you to stop stealing things. Just because you thought that piece of cake was worth 25 steps does not make it okay to steal things. Now you have 50 steps, which will, hopefully, make you understand the principle of the matter.
Son - whine...moan...fuss...grumble, grumble...
He hasn't stolen from the garage fridge since then.
Disclaimer...(Yes, its a repeat of the last one...but the blog above is
new!)
First, let me say that I am not a specialist in Asperger's Syndrome, nor
do I play one on TV. What I write or say are strictly my own personal
observations and beliefs, so please do not sue me because I said
something that made you do something that caused a misdiagnosis, or
created a problem, or made you do something stupid. Have
accountability, go see a professional, and leave my finances
alone...besides, you really wouldn't get much anyway, so its probably
not worth your time to call the lawyer on the back of the phone book to
see if you have a case. Spend that time more wisely, like figuring out
how to subscribe to my blog...and don't ask me about that because I'm
not even sure how it works! Seriously, though, if some of the things I
say seem like they sound very familiar in your family, set up an
appointment with a true professional. While you are waiting for their
callback, please, continue reading and leave a note!
Showing posts with label lessons. Show all posts
Showing posts with label lessons. Show all posts
Saturday, February 4, 2012
Thursday, March 10, 2011
Parents are insane!
Albert Einstein is credited with defining insanity as, doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results. By this definition, I believe parents can be classified as being insane. At the very least, I can claim insanity. However, on a rare occasion, the persistence may just pay off...
Many years ago, there were days that I just did not want to go to school. I would claim a tummy ache and throw in the headache for good measure, hoping my mother would take pity and allow me to stay home. After all, how could a good parent force a sick child upon the world? That would be unheard of, right? HA! Yeah, right. If my memory serves well, that little ploy worked less than half of the time...maybe even less than a quarter of the time.
Now, my son, who thinks I never tried the exact same things he is trying or went through the same struggles he is going through (silly little naive grasshopper), is trying the old stomach ache, headache, and overall sick act upon me, again. Poor kid...he doesn't stand a chance with that one! Of course, for the sake of learning, we do allow him to stay home on occasion, and sometimes simply because his act is so convincing we feel that not only does he earn the right to stay home, he should also earn an Emmy or an Oscar for his portrayal of a truly ill child. But, regardless of the situation, the consequence is always the same; he must stay in his room, get rest, and if he cannot sleep, he may read a book, write a letter, or draw. No TV, no play time, no fun stuff...if you are too sick to be at school, you are too sick to do anything other than rest. What's that? You are hungry? I'll get you some chicken soup and ultra-bland saltine crackers to eat.
Every time he feels "sick" we do the same thing, over and over again, expecting he will get a clue and realize that playing hooky is not fun (at least not until you become an adult and can usually get away with it!), and hope that he sees that the grass is not always greener on the other side. Yes, we are insane, by Einstein's definition, we do the same thing over and over again and expect different results. Only this time, we have proven Einstein wrong! Muahaha!
Yesterday, he tried to play the sick card and had the school give us a call. My response was, give him child's strength Motrin, and send him back to class. Children's Motrin must be magic because he miraculously recovered by the time he came home and was feeling well enough to say he had a good day. Today, the school called again, but this time, he was not given the opportunity to take the magic Motrin, he was sent home.
When I arrived, I was less than happy about the situation, but decided I had better give him the benefit of the doubt and see if the little boy who cried wolf actually saw a wolf this time. When his healthy looking cheeks, alert eyes, and the silent mischievous smirk yelling "ha!, I fooled the grown-ups this time!" came around the corner, I knew immediately there was no wolf. I sighed, because I knew I was about to do the same thing I had done many times before, and yes, I was hoping for a different result.
I took the guilt trip route. I explained to him that if he is really sick, there is no need to apologize, but if he is acting, there will be a problem because his mother and I have had to rearrange our schedules, cancel meetings, and push back work that needed to be done. If he was really sick, however, none of that would matter because we will always be there for him. He promised that his tummy hurt, and that he wasn't acting. "hmmm...ok" was all I said.
When we arrived home, I immediately sent him to his room for "much needed rest" and explained to him that he can read if he cannot sleep, but no running around, playing games, or anything of the sort. His "sick" body needed rest to recover. When he asked if he could have crackers, I told him, after you get some sleep, I'll fix some chicken soup and crackers for you...yep, same thing over and over again.
I headed downstairs to get dinner into the crock-pot before my six hour available cook time had expired (I love crock-pots, by the way). Along with the clattering of plates and silverware prepping the feast for the evening, I heard a random, "thump..thump" coming from upstairs. I let the first one go, but the second, third and fourth were all met with "You need to stop moving around and get some rest!" I also explained to him, again, that if he is well enough to be moving around like he is, then he is well enough to go back to school.
A few minutes later, my son trudged down the steps, his head hung low, with these words coming out of his mouth, "Dad, take me back to school. I lied, I am not sick." I had to work at suppressing the grin my mouth was trying to form, but somehow I managed.
The following conversation reiterated the reasons why he shouldn't cry wolf, why lying is wrong, and so on, but the final consequence was the same as if he really were sick...bed rest, reading, and drawing was all that was allowed. I was nice enough to tell him he could clean his room, in addition to the previously mentioned activities, though, so I am not that mean of a parent! In the end, he was not happy with his choices and seemed to be legitimately remorseful for his actions.
So, maybe I am not as insane as I thought I was. Perhaps doing the same thing over and over again and expecting a different result from your child is not a part of Einstein's definition. Somewhere out there, I am guessing there is a disclaimer to his theory that reads, "exclusions apply," which I seem to have found...for now. We'll see how his next "sick day" goes first before I claim absolute victory...Either way, I hope he learns from these experiences and does not prove Einstein's theory correct!
Many years ago, there were days that I just did not want to go to school. I would claim a tummy ache and throw in the headache for good measure, hoping my mother would take pity and allow me to stay home. After all, how could a good parent force a sick child upon the world? That would be unheard of, right? HA! Yeah, right. If my memory serves well, that little ploy worked less than half of the time...maybe even less than a quarter of the time.
Now, my son, who thinks I never tried the exact same things he is trying or went through the same struggles he is going through (silly little naive grasshopper), is trying the old stomach ache, headache, and overall sick act upon me, again. Poor kid...he doesn't stand a chance with that one! Of course, for the sake of learning, we do allow him to stay home on occasion, and sometimes simply because his act is so convincing we feel that not only does he earn the right to stay home, he should also earn an Emmy or an Oscar for his portrayal of a truly ill child. But, regardless of the situation, the consequence is always the same; he must stay in his room, get rest, and if he cannot sleep, he may read a book, write a letter, or draw. No TV, no play time, no fun stuff...if you are too sick to be at school, you are too sick to do anything other than rest. What's that? You are hungry? I'll get you some chicken soup and ultra-bland saltine crackers to eat.
Every time he feels "sick" we do the same thing, over and over again, expecting he will get a clue and realize that playing hooky is not fun (at least not until you become an adult and can usually get away with it!), and hope that he sees that the grass is not always greener on the other side. Yes, we are insane, by Einstein's definition, we do the same thing over and over again and expect different results. Only this time, we have proven Einstein wrong! Muahaha!
Yesterday, he tried to play the sick card and had the school give us a call. My response was, give him child's strength Motrin, and send him back to class. Children's Motrin must be magic because he miraculously recovered by the time he came home and was feeling well enough to say he had a good day. Today, the school called again, but this time, he was not given the opportunity to take the magic Motrin, he was sent home.
When I arrived, I was less than happy about the situation, but decided I had better give him the benefit of the doubt and see if the little boy who cried wolf actually saw a wolf this time. When his healthy looking cheeks, alert eyes, and the silent mischievous smirk yelling "ha!, I fooled the grown-ups this time!" came around the corner, I knew immediately there was no wolf. I sighed, because I knew I was about to do the same thing I had done many times before, and yes, I was hoping for a different result.
I took the guilt trip route. I explained to him that if he is really sick, there is no need to apologize, but if he is acting, there will be a problem because his mother and I have had to rearrange our schedules, cancel meetings, and push back work that needed to be done. If he was really sick, however, none of that would matter because we will always be there for him. He promised that his tummy hurt, and that he wasn't acting. "hmmm...ok" was all I said.
When we arrived home, I immediately sent him to his room for "much needed rest" and explained to him that he can read if he cannot sleep, but no running around, playing games, or anything of the sort. His "sick" body needed rest to recover. When he asked if he could have crackers, I told him, after you get some sleep, I'll fix some chicken soup and crackers for you...yep, same thing over and over again.
I headed downstairs to get dinner into the crock-pot before my six hour available cook time had expired (I love crock-pots, by the way). Along with the clattering of plates and silverware prepping the feast for the evening, I heard a random, "thump..thump" coming from upstairs. I let the first one go, but the second, third and fourth were all met with "You need to stop moving around and get some rest!" I also explained to him, again, that if he is well enough to be moving around like he is, then he is well enough to go back to school.
A few minutes later, my son trudged down the steps, his head hung low, with these words coming out of his mouth, "Dad, take me back to school. I lied, I am not sick." I had to work at suppressing the grin my mouth was trying to form, but somehow I managed.
The following conversation reiterated the reasons why he shouldn't cry wolf, why lying is wrong, and so on, but the final consequence was the same as if he really were sick...bed rest, reading, and drawing was all that was allowed. I was nice enough to tell him he could clean his room, in addition to the previously mentioned activities, though, so I am not that mean of a parent! In the end, he was not happy with his choices and seemed to be legitimately remorseful for his actions.
So, maybe I am not as insane as I thought I was. Perhaps doing the same thing over and over again and expecting a different result from your child is not a part of Einstein's definition. Somewhere out there, I am guessing there is a disclaimer to his theory that reads, "exclusions apply," which I seem to have found...for now. We'll see how his next "sick day" goes first before I claim absolute victory...Either way, I hope he learns from these experiences and does not prove Einstein's theory correct!
Monday, December 20, 2010
What have I created???
Being unemployed around the holidays does have its perks. Not many, but some. One of those perks is that I can spend more time with my son while he is on Winter Break and teach him some pretty neat things that I would not have been able to if I had a job. Don't get me wrong, I really, really, really, wish I had a job right now, but...
Anyway, the last lesson he learned from me was about cooking. Yes, I said cooking. Thanks to my mother teaching me when I was a kid (see, Mom, I did listen to some things you said!), I have some inkling of a idea of what I am supposed to do while in the kitchen. My feeble attempt to pass the minimal knowledge I have on to my son is met with the same enthusiasm I must have shown when I was the pupil. Sorry, Mom, I should have listened more! Maybe he will retain the lessons, like I did, somehow...hopefully.
The main lesson I try to always teach him is, a good cook always cleans up after him or herself. This is the main lesson my mother taught me, but now that I am wiser, I am wondering if she really believed that, or if it was just a ploy to get me to clean up after her, instead of her after me, like any other day. Either way, I am using the lesson for both reasons, now. Yes, you should clean up after yourself, but something tells me a top-notch chef has his/her own crew to clean up after them...but don't tell that to my son.
Another lesson I was trying to teach him was that a good cook knows the taste of different spices and foods and is able to mix-and-match items that would taste good together without needing someone else to tell them it would work. For example, if I am preparing a dish that calls for cheddar cheese and I, uhhh, I mean my son, happened to eat all of the cheddar cheese the other day while making melted cheese and crackers for a late night snack, I would know that the Colby cheese we have in the fridge is similar to cheddar and it would probably work well as a substitute. Just as I would know that Swiss cheese would give the dish a completely different flavor.
I also mentioned that a good cook is able to create his or her own dishes from throwing together various ingredients that he or she knows would work well together. I used an example of what not to do, based on my personal experimentation when I was a youngin' and decided to put cinnamon (I love cinnamon) in spaghetti sauce (I love spaghetti, so why not mix the two!?!?), along with a few other spices I had lying around. Needless to say, I learned from my mistake and cinnamon no longer comes anywhere near my spaghetti sauce!
What I failed to realize is, his little wheels were turning and turning, concocting a new dish in his mind as I spoke. Since dinner was already made and in the oven, he decided he was going to make dessert...without my help! So, in a sense, he was actually listening to me...he never listens when I say put your socks away, clean up your toys when you are done, or wear your coat in the cold weather, so why would I think he would listen now? Here's what he made...
Grabbing a few round pita-like bread pieces for the base, he spread Nutella as the first ingredient. Clearly wanting more, he then reached for the chocolate sauce, marshmallows, apples, grapes, strawberries, a Snickers bar from Halloween, and...wait for it...cinnamon. Uh-oh, I thought..not the cinnamon! Now, normally I would be ok with strawberries and chocolate, or marshmallows and Nutella, and maybe even a little cinnamon on an apple slice...hey, I might even go for a Snickers bar and grapes, but generally, I would not want all of these ingredients placed on a 100% whole wheat, healthy piece of pita bread...with cinnamon.
Fortunately, I was able to convince him that the apples, strawberries and grapes should be put on after the dessert sandwiches came out of the oven (the marshmallows had to melt, of course). He placed it in the hot oven for a few minutes then asked me to help him take it out - smart kid! I tried to hide my unenthusiastic look as best I could when I saw the warmed product.
So, here he had made a dessert from scratch, baked it, placed the fruit on top, and was anxiously waiting for us to eat it. But, I must say, the final presentation of the dish was very beautiful, and it almost look like it was made by a seasoned cook...but I still knew what it was made of.
As I hesitated to allow my taste buds to sample his perceived delicacy, I wondered what I was going to do if it was atrocious. I shuttered at the thought of the healthy pita holding the sweets together. I was afraid, very afraid. Obviously, I did not want to squish any future desires for him to cook, and I certainly did not want to hurt his feelings after his valiant effort, so I practiced my surprised and pleased face in my mind, waiting for the right moment to let it show.
I took a bite...hmmmmm....yeah, there's the cinnamon...but just a hint of it...nice...yum, there's the chocolate sauce and melted marshmallows....hmmm, like a s'more...not bad....Snickers bar piece...uh-huh...tasty...and the pita...crunchy enough from the oven that it all blended together rather well. HA! I did not have to fake it! It was actually, okay! I don't think it will make the dessert menu at Legal Seafood or Ruth's Chris Steakhouse, but it wasn't bad, I must say. Yes, I was impressed...that is, until the next day when he wanted to do it again, but with white sandwich bread (he used all of the pita), Nutella, cinnamon, and cheese...
Anyway, the last lesson he learned from me was about cooking. Yes, I said cooking. Thanks to my mother teaching me when I was a kid (see, Mom, I did listen to some things you said!), I have some inkling of a idea of what I am supposed to do while in the kitchen. My feeble attempt to pass the minimal knowledge I have on to my son is met with the same enthusiasm I must have shown when I was the pupil. Sorry, Mom, I should have listened more! Maybe he will retain the lessons, like I did, somehow...hopefully.
The main lesson I try to always teach him is, a good cook always cleans up after him or herself. This is the main lesson my mother taught me, but now that I am wiser, I am wondering if she really believed that, or if it was just a ploy to get me to clean up after her, instead of her after me, like any other day. Either way, I am using the lesson for both reasons, now. Yes, you should clean up after yourself, but something tells me a top-notch chef has his/her own crew to clean up after them...but don't tell that to my son.
Another lesson I was trying to teach him was that a good cook knows the taste of different spices and foods and is able to mix-and-match items that would taste good together without needing someone else to tell them it would work. For example, if I am preparing a dish that calls for cheddar cheese and I, uhhh, I mean my son, happened to eat all of the cheddar cheese the other day while making melted cheese and crackers for a late night snack, I would know that the Colby cheese we have in the fridge is similar to cheddar and it would probably work well as a substitute. Just as I would know that Swiss cheese would give the dish a completely different flavor.
I also mentioned that a good cook is able to create his or her own dishes from throwing together various ingredients that he or she knows would work well together. I used an example of what not to do, based on my personal experimentation when I was a youngin' and decided to put cinnamon (I love cinnamon) in spaghetti sauce (I love spaghetti, so why not mix the two!?!?), along with a few other spices I had lying around. Needless to say, I learned from my mistake and cinnamon no longer comes anywhere near my spaghetti sauce!
What I failed to realize is, his little wheels were turning and turning, concocting a new dish in his mind as I spoke. Since dinner was already made and in the oven, he decided he was going to make dessert...without my help! So, in a sense, he was actually listening to me...he never listens when I say put your socks away, clean up your toys when you are done, or wear your coat in the cold weather, so why would I think he would listen now? Here's what he made...
Grabbing a few round pita-like bread pieces for the base, he spread Nutella as the first ingredient. Clearly wanting more, he then reached for the chocolate sauce, marshmallows, apples, grapes, strawberries, a Snickers bar from Halloween, and...wait for it...cinnamon. Uh-oh, I thought..not the cinnamon! Now, normally I would be ok with strawberries and chocolate, or marshmallows and Nutella, and maybe even a little cinnamon on an apple slice...hey, I might even go for a Snickers bar and grapes, but generally, I would not want all of these ingredients placed on a 100% whole wheat, healthy piece of pita bread...with cinnamon.
Fortunately, I was able to convince him that the apples, strawberries and grapes should be put on after the dessert sandwiches came out of the oven (the marshmallows had to melt, of course). He placed it in the hot oven for a few minutes then asked me to help him take it out - smart kid! I tried to hide my unenthusiastic look as best I could when I saw the warmed product.
So, here he had made a dessert from scratch, baked it, placed the fruit on top, and was anxiously waiting for us to eat it. But, I must say, the final presentation of the dish was very beautiful, and it almost look like it was made by a seasoned cook...but I still knew what it was made of.
As I hesitated to allow my taste buds to sample his perceived delicacy, I wondered what I was going to do if it was atrocious. I shuttered at the thought of the healthy pita holding the sweets together. I was afraid, very afraid. Obviously, I did not want to squish any future desires for him to cook, and I certainly did not want to hurt his feelings after his valiant effort, so I practiced my surprised and pleased face in my mind, waiting for the right moment to let it show.
I took a bite...hmmmmm....yeah, there's the cinnamon...but just a hint of it...nice...yum, there's the chocolate sauce and melted marshmallows....hmmm, like a s'more...not bad....Snickers bar piece...uh-huh...tasty...and the pita...crunchy enough from the oven that it all blended together rather well. HA! I did not have to fake it! It was actually, okay! I don't think it will make the dessert menu at Legal Seafood or Ruth's Chris Steakhouse, but it wasn't bad, I must say. Yes, I was impressed...that is, until the next day when he wanted to do it again, but with white sandwich bread (he used all of the pita), Nutella, cinnamon, and cheese...
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