The rather difficult task of letting my kid be a kid

Oh, the sheer struggle of confining myself! Of stopping my feelings and battling my gut desire to just keep shouting and saying NO! For to please me and to let me relax, my son should probably just sit quiet and still. Then of course, I would be rather worried, so there is simply no way I could be pleased.



My perspective: Stand still in the morning. Don’t call me while it’s still dark. I need some more sleep and you certainly don’t have to poop (I figured it out by falling for this trap a few times)! At breakfast – stop dipping your hands in the food, stop playing with the fruit from the fruit bowl, stop spilling your milk all over everywhere and would you just for god’s sake eat the damn breakfast and let me have my coffee! Outside – don’t run, don’t jump in the puddles, don’t let go of my hand, don’t eat cigarette butts, don’t scream, just WALK (even though it’s just a walk, I need to feel like I’m getting somewhere)! In his room – it’s fine if you empty your entire toy basket on the floor, but would you finally learn to put them away without having me go through tirades, threats, punishments and anger management? Don’t touch my phone, don’t touch the knives, don’t play with cars on the walls, don’t ask me 50 questions per minute, just let me breathe!



His perspective: I am exploring, creating, learning, playing, just let me be a kid! I am bored in bed in the morning, I am full of energy and want to run, jump and scream. Not my fault that it always rains or/is wet outside, so we can’t go out with the skateboard. I playing with my food makes funny images, you make funny faces, and I am bored at the table. Jumping in puddles is the most fun ever! If I splash the people around, well let them be more careful next time they walk around me. I don’t agree with limits, so why should I stay off the street? I want to see what cigarettes taste like. I mean, everyone has them in their mouth, they should be awesome. What do you mean if it’s on the ground it can’t be eaten? A piece of gum is still a piece of gum.



I know where this battle will end. Probably just like me, my son will grow up to be an anal freak, that expects his kid to play in a confined territory, not to ever spill, and to be amused by the info booklets that he can tear apart, as we don’t do this with our picture books.