It was around 6pm, the witching hour for little kids. They get tired, they don’t want to eat dinner, they don’t want to go to bed. They get whiny and need attention. Last night was a particularly brutal example of this. Charlie was complaining about having to eat corn cake that Greta made (the little boy is as stubborn as his parents), and just rolling around on the ground fake-crying in protest.
“But I don’t want cake. I’m not hung-ie for cake. Ehhhhh….ehhhhh… I’m not HUNG-IE!”
For like 25 minutes he just whined and fake-cried and Greta was about to pull her hair out in frustration.
Jack was talking up a storm, trying to get some attention amidst all the noise. I was writing an email at the kitchen counter, trying to ignore everything and focus, but it was increasingly difficult.
Eventually, I had enough. So I turned in my chair and just strapped on the deepest, most authoritative voice I could muster, and said “Guys, it’s too loud and crazy in here. ENOUGH! Charlie, stop crying IMMEDIATELY or you’ll go sit on the stairs.”
It worked. Everyone shut up. It was dead silent. I kept typing on the computer and all you could hear was the glorious click click click of a Mac keyboard.
Dad laid down the law, and the law won. It felt glorious.
I rarely raise my voice with my children. I don’t want to be the type of Dad that yells all the time. I don’t want my children to be afraid of me. Plus it’s not usually effective. But sometimes there’s nothing like some good old-fashioned Authority to get the kids in line. And make me feel powerful.