when to intervene?

My grandma would yell “Don’t run!” whenever she spotted me moving at any pace faster than a stroll. I swear she said it every time I saw her. I thought she was being ridiculous. Clearly she didn’t want me to have any fun. Maybe I should blame her for my sedentary tendencies? But that’s another post.

When I watch my children playing — running, climbing, jumping, hurling heavy objects at each other — I can understand where she was coming from. It’s scary watching people you love do things that could harm them. But I try to remember the kid I was as I watch my own. Running is fun (which it’s taken me close to 30 years to rediscover). Risks are a part of learning about the world. So the question I keep coming back to is, when to intervene?

I suppose this is one of the essential questions of parenthood. It’s easy enough in the beginning, knowing when to get hands-on. With newborns, the answer to when to intervene is, pretty much always. They’re helpless. It’s all on you. One of the first tests of parenting is getting a baby to sleep. I’m watching good friends go through this again with their 4-month old. How long do you let her cry before you go in and do something? Every instinct says, “Go to the baby, pick up the baby, soothe the baby.” But at some point, the baby has to go to sleep on her own. This cycle plays out over and over for the rest of our children’s lives, with constantly evolving challenges, and steadily increasing consequences for failure.

With our two boys, three years apart, we get to navigate two different sets of overlapping issues as we work out how to parent them. With the 18-month old, right now it’s mostly about keeping him from falling to his death, electrocuting or drowning himself, or destroying our house. Most recently he’s taken to whacking his brother in the head with anything he can get his hands on (see: bam bam). At his age, it’s still mostly black and white. You step in to prevent the kid doing harm to himself or others. There’s a little grey area around how high to let him climb or how quickly to jump to the bigger boy’s rescue, but not much.

With the 4-year old, it’s already getting more complicated. He’s clearly much more self-sufficient, and, in our case, a much more cautious child than his little brother. He rarely does things that are truly dangerous, and usually operates pretty well within his capabilities. Sometimes he actually needs to be pushed a little outside his comfort zone. (I mean, really, how hard should it be to get a kid to try PIZZA?). Lately, with him, the question of when to intervene comes up more in social situations. Owen has lots of friends his age. With a few of his best friends, particularly the boys, everything is suddenly a competition. Who gets to be first? Whose is better? Who’s smarter? Faster? Stronger? You name it, they’ll turn it into a contest. Sometimes it’s all fun and games, but sometimes it turns into real conflict, complete with tears and even hitting. So, again the question — when do we get involved?

Sometimes they make it clear they WANT you involved, by coming and “telling on” the other for something he did or said. But even this isn’t a clear indication that stepping in is the right move. Sometimes they just need to work it out. I find myself saying, “Why are you telling ME? Why don’t you tell HIM to stop hitting/teasing/rubbing-his-string-cheese-on you?”

It’s part of our job description as parents to protect our children from real danger as much as we can. But that’s not the same as making sure they never have a bad experience. “Life is pain, highness. Anyone who says differently is selling something.” (Bonus points to the first one to name that movie in the comments WITHOUT resorting to Google). Wise words, those, and something to remember as we decide how quickly to get involved in our children’s conflicts.

Now, I’ve seen parents who take the hands-off approach too far, in my opinion. I know it’s easy to judge how others parent their kids. It’s hard, and everybody’s got to make their choices. But, standing 10 feet away, completely oblivious as your child steals toys from other kids and proceeds to whale on them with said swiped toy? That, to me, is abdicating one’s parental responsibilities.

So I let my kids run, climb, and sometimes even reach out and touch the hot barbecue after I’ve told them 17 times it’s hot because nothing short of a little pain on the fingers is going to convince them it’s not a good idea to touch it. But I try not to allow them to do serious harm to themselves, or to those around them. This doesn’t always work. Sometimes they fall, sometimes they cry, and every day there’s a new challenge. A new question. I guess this is how it goes with parenting. Goodie for us.

Tagged as: dudewe'rescrewed