“Daddy, are you staying home today?”
“Yes, hon. It's a holiday.”
“Goody! That means we can have BIG pancakes!”
Big pancakes in my daughter's language are those pancakes that I make on the griddle, not the tiny microwave ones that come in a box. Although it will be more time consuming than I had planned this morning, it is such a simple request, and will give her lots of happiness, so I acquiesce. The real joy, for both of us, is determining what shape the pancake will take. Today, it is to be Pooh Bear. I've made many in the past: Micky Mouse (easy), Brontosaurus, T-Rex, Triceratops, (harder), Thomas (The tank engine – fairly hard). Since batter spreads, it requires a large paddle to flip the rather large pancakes that result.
“Pooh has a big belly,” as I pour an oblong ellipse, “and a pretty big head” as a connecting circle appears. “Tiny ears,” to my daughter's hand clap and exclamation of delight. “Don't forget the feet, Daddy!” she admonishes, and two more pours provide feet. “And arms!” We make some arms, which end up being closer to clubs. “It's Pooh Bear!” she cries, and laughs. This is the moment I love: Seeing the misshapen blob of batter on the griddle through her 5-year-old eyes and imagination as the beloved story-book character of Winnie the Pooh.
It doesn't go completely as planned: During the flip, one of Pooh's feet comes off, but we reconnect it, and the magic is restored. She sits down to eat her pancake, and I set about making a bunch (standard round) for me.
Then the demands start. “I want some orange juice!” “Dad, I need some orange juice!” when it doesn't come fast enough. “And my vitamin!” “Syrup! I want syrup!” Then, in a switch worthy of the Jekyll and Hyde duo, my beautiful, inquisitive, laughing daughter becomes a monster: “I've gotten syrup in my hair! Aaaahhhh, AAAAhhhhhhhh, AAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH!!!!”
And so, the challenge of parenthood begins, as we balance providing for our little dependents while not giving in to their every demand. It's a tightrope that every parent walks, providing what is reasonable while they cannot, teaching them to do for themselves what they can, instilling in them the confidence they need to negotiate life. Its a work in progress. We won't know the outcome in my daughter's case for 15, 20, maybe 25 years. Has she become capable of balancing her needs and wants against the needs and wants of those around her? Will she politely wait her turn? Will she only ask for what she needs of others, or will she attempt to manipulate them into providing for her things she can do and obtain for herself? Will she quietly tolerate some unfairness, not demanding that she always go first, even if it is her right? Conversely, will she have the confidence to step up and ensure that her needs are met when required (for while there is grace in holding our needs and wants secondary, there are times when it is crucial that we look after ourselves)?
It's tough work. Punishment is not an adult strategy: We've learned it from our children. They punish us for not jumping to their needs, which is quickly extended to their wants. They scream, they throw tantrums (and sometimes things), and will repeat incessantly the demand in too often successful attempts to wear us down. They haven't learned our adult strategies of masking our demands in feigned kindness, proceeded with 'please', 'if you don't mind', 'Could you do me a favor'. They also don't know when to accept defeat, or when it is impolite to ask, skills we hopefully all have. Everything is primal, raw, tears and yells and actions.
Of course, too, our responses depend upon how rested we are. Fortunately for us this morning, I've had a very restful night's sleep. I procure her orange juice (with the admonishment that she ask “Please”), and ask her to wait on the vitamin until I've finished my pancakes. And, in one of those insightful moments, instead of berating her for not keeping her hair out of her plate, I demonstrate to her how to remove the syrup from her hair and have her brush the tangles out. In the process, the monster disappears, and my daughter returns to finish breakfast with me.
This I can count as a parenting success. We've enjoyed a good breakfast together, we've navigated the interactions without growing angry at each other, and my little girl has acquired a necessary skill for those who will wear their hair long and eat big pancakes in the morning.