On one of the
first days of summer vacation, my sister called. She had known the boys had
swimming lessons in the morning and was wondering what they did in the afternoon.
“They
bickered,” I said.
“All
afternoon?”
“Pretty
much.”
Maureen
found this funny, partly because she doesn’t have kids, partly because I made
it sound like it was an actual activity. Time to swim, then lunchtime, followed
by a period of incessant bickering.
Now,
a month later, we are in the middle of summer and while the boys still bicker
occasionally, it doesn’t seem to be the full-time sport it was in early June.
If
the first week of school is takeoff, the first week of vacation after the
school year is reentry. For astronauts, reentry is the most dangerous time. As
they pass from space into the atmosphere, the temperature outside their
spacecraft can reach three thousand degrees. Without the proper equipment and
the correct maneuvers before and during reentry, they will perish.
Summer
vacation means reentry into the family. No longer is everything in the boys’
world set up exactly for their age and developmental level. For six-year-old Liam, reentry heat is turned
on as he tries to keep up with his brother, 3 years older. For Jacob, the heat
comes through frustration with a little brother who asks too many questions and
doesn’t always understand everything on the first try. And both of them need to
deal with the thousand-degree toddler, who is apt to scribble on their
pictures, take apart their Lego creations and generally pull away Mom and Dad’s
attention.
To
avoid what felt like an inevitable crash and burn, I found myself giving my
boys the equivalent of the ceramic tiles put on the outside of the spaceship to
resist the heat. For the first part of the space age, scientists didn’t think
reentry without burning was possible. Because of this, they didn’t even man the
first flights. As they learned more about how to manage the reentry process,
they developed spacecrafts that were better and better able to handle the heat.
I’m sure each parent has developed his or her own “tiles” that help with
reentry and cut down on bickering. My tiles can be boiled down to three sentences.
The first week of vacation, I found myself saying each several times a day.
Now, it seems that the boys actually internalized them somewhat, and I don’t
need to say them as often:
Tile
1: “Find something he’s saying that you agree with and talk about that.” This
is especially aimed at 10-year-old Jacob. Too often, Liam would make a
statement about something, and Jacob would find the one thing about it that was
incorrect and point it out. To prevent a conversation from escalating to an
argument over small points, Jacob needed to see that the object of conversing
wasn’t to find every error in what Liam was saying. His job was to find Liam’s
main point and build on that, rather than tear down a smaller point.
Tile
2: “No one can talk until the next stop light.” When it seemed that every car
ride was a trip to Bickerfest, I began instituting whole blocks of silence when
I heard an argument was starting. At the stoplight, they could talk again, but
if the talk goes back to the same old argument, then it’s more silence until
another landmark. They soon learned that if they have any hope of doing
anything in the car besides listening to NPR, they needed to talk civilly to
each other.
Tile
3: “You’re arguing over the computer? You’re lucky to have a computer.” This is
my social justice tile. I noticed that a lot of the things the boys argued over
wouldn’t even be available to the average kid in a third-world country. Early
in the summer, I explained (and re-explained) why kids in another place would
be so happy to take turns with whatever my boys both wanted to use at once. I
found I could apply the lesson to just about any material thing. “Do you know
how lucky you are to have a ___?” (basketball, turn to choose the TV show,
bike.) I’m not sure if they now have internalized this message or just don’t
want me to start the third-world lecture again, since it does tend to be
long. Regardless, they are not fighting
as much over objects.
I
have been able to write this whole essay as the boys played whiffle ball in the
front yard. The first week of summer, I wouldn’t have been able to get through
the first paragraph.
The reentry is
successful, Houston.
And I’m going to
enjoy it until we need to once again prepare for takeoff.
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