A friend of mine was telling me about his four year old daughter, who’s in the age of defiance. She asked for blueberries. He got her the blueberries, washed them, put them on a plate for her. She pushed them away. He said, “You asked for blueberries, now you have to eat them.” Pushed the plate back towards her. She pushed it away again. He thought, “You will not defy me!” and said, “You either eat the blueberries or go to your room.” She said, “NO!” He said, “GO!” She went to her room, cried for thirty minutes, came back and ate the blueberries. Enjoyed them.
The part of the story that struck me was what he thought. “You will not defy me!” Reading myself into the story now, I imagined that surge of rage I would have felt when she pushed the blueberries away. I’d like to say anger, annoyance, or something milder, more reasonable. But the sad truth of the matter is that reason drains from me when Margaret looks at me, smiles, and pulls the safety corners for their beds (I have since just pulled them off), or when I give Battle a bowl of blueberries and he flings them wildly across the floor. My reaction is pure mania: either hysterical laughter or white-hot rage rips through me. To be fair, sometimes I manage to repress the laughter and I never act on the rage, unless you count bellowing about the “fucking blueberries.” (Why is it always blueberries?) I’m not proud of it.
Thinking about my friend’s struggle with his daughter and her blueberries made it much easier to see what I should do with my own blueberry struggles. It seems reasonable to tell a child they have to eat the food they request. Reasonable to send her to her room if she doesn’t. The thing that gets me in trouble, though it didn’t seem to cause any trouble for my friend, is the thought: “you will not defy me.” Why does that “eat shit” grin and defiance from my kids get such a rise out of me?
I wrote that obedience is anti-meaning. Is defiance meaning? If so, my reaction to my kids defiance is pretty dangerous. Two very different questions: what does their defiance mean to them? And what does it mean to me? Let’s start with me :)
Sometimes it “means” I can’t get done what I intend to get done. I’m trying to get Battle in the car, he runs away; I’m trying to get Margaret dressed, she’s squirming. This sounds like a small thing, but the assault on one’s ability to carry out intentions is one of the most difficult things about being a parent. Before I had kids, if I intended to start a company, the result would be $30 million raised and 65 people working diligently. After I had kids, if I intended to take a shower, it might or might not happen. Indeed, I just don’t take a shower from Friday till Monday...On a good day, this is mildly amusing. On a bad day, it’s extremely irritating. On a terrible day, it can feel like a full frontal attack on my very existence. “I was put on this earth to uncover the meaning of life and instead I am just picking up blueberries.” The meaning of intention is something to ponder. Understand how it is different from the meaning of will. But I think one of the keys to enjoying kids is to be very, very careful about intentions. Whenever we are in a hurry to get out the door, there’s going to be trouble. Does it really matter if they are late to pre-school? Not so much. I’d rather have a nice morning and be 15 minutes late. Indeed, the great pleasure if children is they force you to let go of so many intentions. And to fight like hell for the ones you really do care about. But the answer is not to crush their defiance, to be angry about their defiance, or to find their defiance hilarious. The answer is to take responsibility for my own intentions, which are mine alone.
Sometimes it “means” I’m worried about their safety. On a good day, I am worried. On a bad day I am terrified about loving them so much that I have become fortune’s hostage. On a terrible day I become a neurotic wreck over their safety. My imagination runs amok with scenes of their gruesome deaths and the subsequent hel of my living. Battle darting a few steps away from me in a parking lot can feel like a full frontal attack on my very existence. And might be met with the rage one reserves for such an attack. We went to the beach and I warned Margaret in such graphic terms about the danger of the waves that she really didn’t want to get anywhere too close to them. I’m inclined to think that was the right thing. We had a great time at the beach and when we got home she said, “I love the beach.” Better than fighting her the whole time. Same thing with cars. A delivery truck came in the driveway, and Battle came screaming up to me, genuinely afraid, “Cars are dangerous!!” Again, the answer to the fact that I am now a hostage to fortune is not to rage at their defiance, but to try to help them see risks for themselves.
Sometimes it means I’m worried that they will become spoiled, nasty people. “I want blueberries, fuck you for getting them for me.” Again, raging at their defiance isn’t the answer, most especially because I then become the spoiled, nasty person.
What does the defiance mean for the child? Why did my friend’s daughter push away what she just said she wanted?
Maybe it means curiosity: she just wants to know what will happen if she does. This is how she learns.
Maybe it means she changed her mind.
Maybe it means she feels more alive in a stimulus-response world; if she does one thing, she can make her father behave in a certain way.
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