Don't Pinch Me Yet

I feel like I am living in a dream world. For the last week my children have been getting along with each other. They have squabbles, but they are resolving their issues quickly and without too much mediation. A couple of weeks ago my children spent a lot of time in these chairs.

No, this is not a double timeout (although I could see the value in that). These are our reconciliation chairs. Well actually, they are our kitchen chairs, but when the going gets rough we declare a ceasefire and the girls sit here until a truce has been established. We are not talking about arbitration, with a parent as a third party mediator. Our children sit face to face and figure things out amongst themselves. Usually it goes something like this.

Mad Child: You hit me!

Stubborn Child: No I didn’t!

Mad Child: Yes you did and I didn’t like it.

Stubborn Child: Sorry. I want the doll.

Mad Child: Maybe we can have minutes. (This means share with the aid of a timer)

Stubborn Child: Okay.

Mad Child and Stubborn Child head off to play together, because playing is way more fun than sitting in chairs and arguing.

This system is a lifesaver, because Jeff and I don’t need to insert ourselves into every argument. We are also helping them put some important life skills to practice at a young age. Such as getting along with people around you; fixing a relationship that isn’t going well; and learning to forgive and forget.

Last night Belle made and interesting observation about some friends of hers. She said, “Matt and Susie don’t share very well.”

She spent the day at Matt and Susie’s house so I asked, “With you or with each other?”

“With each other,” she answered.

“Matt and Susie are much farther apart in age and they are brother and sister, so sharing is harder for them,” I explained.

As I spoke, I noticed that Belle was holding the baby doll that she had received for her birthday on Saturday and Ariel was playing with the Fur-Real lamb that Belle also received for her birthday. In fact, the lamb has been nestled under Ariel’s arm for three days now. It does not bother Belle that she has yet to play with this birthday present. It seems one of our family rules has achieved its desired purpose.

In our house possession is nine-tenths of the law. It does not matter who bought it, who made it, or who received it. It only matters who possesses it. This rule has been in effect for so long that Jeff and I cannot remember which toy was given to which child, and neither do the girls. Creating this sharing atmosphere is significantly aided by the fact that our children are of the same gender and seventeen months apart in age.

I am weary of living in this Utopian state where sharing is easy and fighting is rare. I am enough of a realist to know that this will not last and we will return to daily reconciliation chairs sometime soon. Until then I will enjoy the peace and brace myself for the day when I come home to find my daughters confined to their rooms for constant fighting and Jeff silently rocking himself in the corner while cradling a depleted bottle of Grand Marnier.