When my kids were young, we felt the need for only a few simple rules. “No killing each other” (they hadn’t much opportunity to kill others) and “always wash your hands after you eat” (clearly I was more concerned about the cleanliness of my walls than the cleanliness of their palates) were the only rules we felt were terribly important.
“What is their bedtime?” the babysitter would inquire on those rare occasions when we could trick, er, convince one to stay with the Big Guy and sibs. Her look of utter confusion was always just so darn stinkin’ priceless when our response was to burst into gales of laughter. Sometimes we would take pity on the poor girl and explain but then we would have to explain why they didn’t have to brush their teeth before bed, why they could watch whatever they wanted on TV and why they were welcome to anything in the fridge and cupboards. As long as they washed their hands after they ate. (Oh, and that pesky rule about murder.) That was it.
The reason for this was one thing and one thing only: the Big Guy. We felt that having him go into a tirade and skewer the babysitter’s eyeballs with a fork would be a Bad Thing. I can’t help but think the babysitter would agree had we asked. For obvious reasons, we never did. (We didn’t get out much.)
However.
The years have passed, the Big Guy is mostly a cuddly (large, hairy) teddy bear and the need for rules, very specific ones, have increased. And they had best cover everything, contain no loopholes and be looked over by the family attorney if we know what’s good for us. This is because, though the Big Guy is without guile, the other two are not. To my surprise, I have had to come up with rules along the lines of,
No cookies before breakfast
“What is their bedtime?” the babysitter would inquire on those rare occasions when we could trick, er, convince one to stay with the Big Guy and sibs. Her look of utter confusion was always just so darn stinkin’ priceless when our response was to burst into gales of laughter. Sometimes we would take pity on the poor girl and explain but then we would have to explain why they didn’t have to brush their teeth before bed, why they could watch whatever they wanted on TV and why they were welcome to anything in the fridge and cupboards. As long as they washed their hands after they ate. (Oh, and that pesky rule about murder.) That was it.
The reason for this was one thing and one thing only: the Big Guy. We felt that having him go into a tirade and skewer the babysitter’s eyeballs with a fork would be a Bad Thing. I can’t help but think the babysitter would agree had we asked. For obvious reasons, we never did. (We didn’t get out much.)
However.
The years have passed, the Big Guy is mostly a cuddly (large, hairy) teddy bear and the need for rules, very specific ones, have increased. And they had best cover everything, contain no loopholes and be looked over by the family attorney if we know what’s good for us. This is because, though the Big Guy is without guile, the other two are not. To my surprise, I have had to come up with rules along the lines of,
No cookies before breakfast
No ice cream five minutes after bedtime
Oh, and by the way, you have a bedtime
You absolutely may not, under any circumstances, wipe your boogers on the wall (or the window or the upholstery in the car)
Picking up trash off of the playground is okay. Taking it out of the garbage receptacles in order to win “who has the biggest pile of trash” game is not acceptable. (The principal is so with me on this one.)
And for the love of Mike, no using the dog as a dartboard!
Oh, and last but not least, Miss Delacourt Speaks Her Mind is required reading.
Oh, and by the way, you have a bedtime
You absolutely may not, under any circumstances, wipe your boogers on the wall (or the window or the upholstery in the car)
Picking up trash off of the playground is okay. Taking it out of the garbage receptacles in order to win “who has the biggest pile of trash” game is not acceptable. (The principal is so with me on this one.)
And for the love of Mike, no using the dog as a dartboard!
Oh, and last but not least, Miss Delacourt Speaks Her Mind is required reading.
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on Monday, February 2, 2009
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The Big Guy
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