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I say ’Don’t!’ to my boys a lot…
Don’t go near those stinging nettles!; ’Don’t splash in that puddle with no wellies on!’; ’Don’t rub jelly all over your brother’s face!’; ’Don’t climb on that wobbly wall!’; ’Don’t poke your eyes out with that spiky stick!’.
In fact, if I’m honest, I hound my two little ones with ’Don’t!’ from the minute they wake (’Don’t get up, it’s only 5.45!’) to the time they go to bed (’Don’t squirt toothpaste all over the cream sofa!’).
I think it’s got a lot to do with me treating them like
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they’re still toddlers (rather than three and almost five) and also because I am a natural worrier. I worry that they’re going to get hurt (or someone else will), I worry for my house (which suffers from a constant battering) and I worry that if I don’t say ’Don’t!’, my boys will become even wilder than they are (and this won’t help my sanity).
But somehow I know I have to learn to relax a bit, let go and, within reason, let them make their own mistakes. Otherwise how will they ever learn about life if I’m always by their side, telling them
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right from wrong? I’ve got to let them find out for themselves that nettles actually do sting, that jumping in a puddle in your shoes equals cold, soggy feet, that covering somebody in jelly is not cool, that falling off a wall is not fun, that sticks can hurt…
I went for a walk with a mother-of-four friend the other day and was in awe of how she dealt with her brood: one fell over and had blood pouring from his nose; one drenched herself after jumping into a stream; one was screaming after being stung by a wasp, and the other was crawling around
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in the mud in search of bugs. And instead of screaming at her kids to stop it or getting out her hanky, dry clothes, After Bite and wet wipes (like I would), she just laughed it off and dealt with them accordingly. And my two had the best fun ever.
I so want to be like my uber-casual friend. Ok, I might have a long way to go before I become as chilled out as her, but I’m going to aim to be a lot less bossy and more easy-going. After all, I never wanted to be as strict a parent as the one I’ve become. And I want my children to see my fun side for a
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change, rather than just the serious and sensible me.
So, from today, I’m going to drop the ’Don’t do that!’ speak, loosen the tight parenting reins and allow my boys to be more free – although I might still hang on to the wet wipes and first aid kit, just in case.
Image: Oliver Berghold
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Site Default - 1 Jun 15
I say ‘Don’t!’ to my boys a lot…
Don’t go near those stinging nettles!; ‘Don’t splash in that puddle with no wellies on!’; ‘Don’t rub jelly all over your brother’s face!’; ‘Don’t climb on that wobbly wall!’; ‘Don’t poke your eyes out with that spiky stick!’.
In fact, if I’m honest, I hound my two little ones with ‘Don’t!’ from the minute they wake (‘Don’t get up, it’s only 5.45!’) to the time they go to bed (‘Don’t squirt toothpaste all over the cream sofa!’).
I think it’s got a lot to do with me treating them like they’re still toddlers (rather than three and almost five) and also because I am a natural worrier. I worry that they’re going to get hurt (or someone else will), I worry for my house (which suffers from a constant battering) and I worry that if I don’t say ‘Don’t!’, my boys will become even wilder than they are (and this won’t help my sanity).
But somehow I know I have to learn to relax a bit, let go and, within reason, let them make their own mistakes. Otherwise how will they ever learn about life if I’m always by their side, telling them right from wrong? I’ve got to let them find out for themselves that nettles actually do sting, that jumping in a puddle in your shoes equals cold, soggy feet, that covering somebody in jelly is not cool, that falling off a wall is not fun, that sticks can hurt…
I went for a walk with a mother-of-four friend the other day and was in awe of how she dealt with her brood: one fell over and had blood pouring from his nose; one drenched herself after jumping into a stream; one was screaming after being stung by a wasp, and the other was crawling around in the mud in search of bugs. And instead of screaming at her kids to stop it or getting out her hanky, dry clothes, After Bite and wet wipes (like I would), she just laughed it off and dealt with them accordingly. And my two had the best fun ever.
I so want to be like my uber-casual friend. Ok, I might have a long way to go before I become as chilled out as her, but I’m going to aim to be a lot less bossy and more easy-going. After all, I never wanted to be as strict a parent as the one I’ve become. And I want my children to see my fun side for a change, rather than just the serious and sensible me.
So, from today, I’m going to drop the ‘Don’t do that!’ speak, loosen the tight parenting reins and allow my boys to be more free – although I might still hang on to the wet wipes and first aid kit, just in case.
Image: Oliver Berghold
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Fiona Pennell lives in the Cotswolds with her husband and their two boys, Jack, 6, and Otto, 4. A former YOU magazine sub-editor, Fiona now spends her days being trampled on, going on slug hunts and dreaming of lie-ins. (Twitter: @fiona_pennell)