What to Expect the Toddler Years (82 page)

Take your cue from the garden of Eden.
Forbidding something completely often makes it more seductive—à la Eve and the apple. A child who isn’t allowed to play with toy guns may improvise—turning other objects into “weapons.”

If you do ban weapons, don’t ban imagination.
If it’s important to you that there be no weapons in the house, by all means forbid them. But if your child plays war games—either with makeshift weapons at home or with store-bought toy weapons at a friend’s—don’t make an issue of it. By not buying toy weapons for your child and making him aware of how you feel on the subject, you’re making a strong enough statement.

Consider compromise.
Some parents, for example, okay innocuous looking water pistols and old traditional favorites (six-shooters, plastic medieval swords, and bows and arrows) that aren’t part of
a modern weapons arsenal and out-law those that are too realistic or violent (such as water pistols that look like machine guns and super water blasters).

Verbalize your objections.
Whether or not you decide on a ban, it’s important to explain to your child why you feel the way you do about war toys: “I know you like to play with toy guns, but I want you to know that real guns and knives and swords can hurt people.” Whenever the opportunity presents itself tell your child that “It’s better to talk than to fight” and that “only police officers and soldiers should use guns against other people, and then only to protect you and me and keep us safe.”

Keep the peace at home.
No other factor has more influence on what kind of person a child becomes than the environment in which he grows up. A child who is raised by parental role models who resolve disagreements and disputes verbally instead of physically will almost certainly do the same as an adult—no matter what toys he chooses and games he plays. Lavishing a child with love, emphasizing such values as the rights of others, tolerance, and kindness, and honing communication skills (see page 424) will be much more significant in nurturing a respect for nonviolence than a ban on toy weapons.

Use literature as an ally.
Look for books that stress peaceful settlement of battles. For the older toddler, Dr. Seuss’s wonderful
Butter Battle Book
clearly illustrates the futility and foolishness of war.

Tune out television, DVD, and movie violence.
Even cartoons, depicting far more creative and numerous ways to inflict harm than anything your child could ever summon up in imaginative war play, can insidiously desensitize young viewers to violence (see page 160).

“I know that my daughter is too young to reason with, but her unreasonableness is making me nuts.”

Though it wouldn’t seem so to a reasonably rational adult, a toddler has good reasons for being unreasonable. For refusing to wear a coat in cold weather. For not eating a bite of the cereal she asked for five minutes before. For tearing half of a page out of her favorite book and then being angry because the page is no longer intact.

The most obvious reason, of course, is that she’s a typical toddler, struggling for independence. She wants to make her own decisions, even if they are wrong. She wants to find out for herself, even if the process is painful—for her as well as her family. But toddlers are also often unreasonable because they are hungry or tired or otherwise out-of-sorts.

Reasoning with your unreasonable toddler—as you’ve wisely recognized—is not realistic. Instead, try these techniques:

Treat with food or rest.
Always think “food” and/or “rest” when considering how to deal with irrational behavior. You won’t be able to deal rationally with the toddler who is beside herself because she’s hungry or tired until she’s been fed or has rested. And while you’re at it, make sure that you feed yourself as well—unreasonable toddlers are less exasperating to deal with when you’re not cranky with hunger.

Consider underlying personality differences.
Some toddlers
seem
to be unreasonable but are actually acting in a way that is consistent with their personality type. If you haven’t already, check to see if what you think is irrational is just “difficult-child” syndrome (see page 200). If it is, treat accordingly.

Don’t let irrationality rule.
If your toddler refuses to get into the car seat and you must take an older child to school, strap your toddler in kicking and screaming if you must. Or if she decides she wants to empty every bookcase in the house, distract her, take her out to the playground, or otherwise put a stop to her efforts. Don’t let a toddler’s irrationality run—and ruin—everyone else’s life.

Let cause have its effect.
Except when learning from her mistakes might jeopardize her health or safety, or significantly inconvenience others in the family, allow your toddler to experience the consequences of her unreasonable behavior: When she doesn’t put her coat on, she’s cold when she goes out (or, if it is bitter cold, she isn’t allowed to play outdoors); when she doesn’t eat, she goes hungry; when she rips her book, she can’t see all the pictures. It’ll take plenty of trial and error on her part, but eventually she will begin to realize that parents sometimes have a point.

Hold the “I told you so’s.”
It may be tempting, after your toddler has disobeyed the injunction not to step in puddles, to rub her nose in her wet sneakers, at least figuratively. Resist that temptation. The consequence—cold, wet feet—is punishment enough for her faulty judgment; she doesn’t need your insults added to her injury. Instead, underline the lesson matter of factly, “Oops, wet feet. That’s why stepping in puddles without boots on isn’t really such a great idea.”

Get crafty.
There are dozens of tricks to the parents-of-toddlers trade; while none of them work all of the time, one or another of them is likely to work some of the time. When successful, they allow you to achieve your goals while letting your toddler save face. Try a change of activity, a silly incongruity (the old boots-on-the-hands routine), reverse psychology (see page 316), an ad-lib song, a little fast talking (“Do you know what we’re doing after lunch today?”) to distract your toddler when she’s getting irrational.

And . . . keep your sense of humor.
Instead of letting an irrational toddler drive you up the wall, laugh at her antics—to yourself, of course. Keep them in perspective by reminding yourself over and over again that unbelievable as it may seem, “this too shall pass.”

Your mother did it. Her mother before her did it. And though there may not be any petroglyphs to prove it, chances are cave mothers did it, too. Ever since there have been children in need of comfort (for a scraped knee, a bumped lip, or a bruised ego), there have been mothers (and, more often now than in the past, fathers) around to “kiss the hurt and make it better.”

Giving comfort to children is as basic and essential a part of parenting as giving nourishment; in order to thrive, a child needs adequate amounts of both. Much of the comfort comes instinctively—in the form of a quick hug, a touch of the lips, or the brushing away of a few tears—and usually that’s enough to get a toddler who’s taken a tumble to toddle off happily. But sometimes that kiss
alone won’t make it better—sometimes you’ll need to put a little extra time, effort, and thought into the comforting of your child, particularly as he or she grows older and more complex.

Be aware of your power.
You may feel you’re only human—sometimes, only
too
human. But to a two- or three-year-old, you’re nothing short of omnipotent. Though your offspring-endowed om nipotence will fade as the years go by, leaving you, a mere mortal again by the time your child enters adolescence, for now your reassuring words and loving touch carry plenty of weight. When you cradle your toddler in your arms and say, “It will be all right,” he or she will magically feel at least a little, if not all, better. Which is why your brand of comfort is the best medicine for whatever is ailing your child—whether the bruise is physical or emotional.

Be an island of calm in the storm . . .
If you regularly respond to everyday tumbles with a calm, “Whoops, you’re all right,” your toddler is pretty sure to feel all right. If you screech, “Oh, my poor baby! Are you hurt?” your toddler will learn to take the opportunity to answer “Yes” loud and clear. Nothing alarms a child more than a parent who is alarmed; nothing upsets like an upset parent: “If my tower of strength is crumbling, there must really be something wrong.” So though it’s only natural for you to feel keenly your child’s pain, it’s best if you don’t show excessive concern. You’ll be a much more effective source of reassurance if you remain calm—and if you transmit this calm not only in your words and tone of voice, but in your facial expressions and body language. Toddlers whose parents don’t overreact become children who pick themselves up from a fall, brush themselves off, and go on their merry way.
. . . but don’t pretend there is no storm.
Though you shouldn’t overreact to a child’s pain, you shouldn’t totally ignore it, particularly when the hurt is emotional. We all need to know that our feelings have validity—and we all have the right, occasionally, to make a mountain out of a molehill. This is particularly true of toddlers, who are so small and vulnerable—and to whom molehills do, truly, loom like so many Mt. Everests. By treating all problems and anxieties as trifles, dismissing every upset with “Oh, you’re absolutely okay. . . that’s nothing,” when it really
is
something to your child, your message is that his or her feelings don’t count.

Comfort unconditionally.
Even when their behavior has been less than sterling, children deserve consolation when injured. Comfort your child even after he or she has fallen off the chair you declared off-limits two minutes before or has caught a finger in the cabinet door you said to stop swinging.

Lend an ear . . . and a shoulder to cry on.
A wound of the spirit often needs as much comfort as a wound of the body. Encourage your child to talk about it (“You seem upset; do you want to tell me why?”) when his or her feelings have been hurt. It may be difficult, while communication skills are still halting, and particularly during times of stress, to figure out what’s being said—but your efforts to recognize and validate your child’s feelings will be something he or she appreciates.

Listen, but don’t lecture.
Though toddlers who are in physical or emotional pain need someone to listen, to validate their feelings, and to express support, they don’t need lectures, put-downs, or I-told-you-so’s. But beware of offering too much sympathy. Overdoses can turn out a child who is dependent, self-pitying, and relishes the martyr’s role.

Don’t assign blame.
Blaming your child (“If you hadn’t left that car in the middle of the floor, you wouldn’t have fallen”) will neither comfort nor teach a lesson. Better to say, “Let’s see if we can figure out why you fell.” When your child says, “I fell on the car,” you can respond, “How do you think you can make sure you won’t fall that way again?”

Putting the blame elsewhere won’t be helpful either (“Lisa always makes such a mess of your toys, no wonder you can’t find all the pieces to your game”). Instead, ask “What do you think you can do to keep your game pieces from getting lost next time?”

Don’t try to make everything better.
Your child dropped a toy truck out the window, smashing it? It’s okay to say, “I’m sorry your truck is broken.” But it’s not a good idea to run out and buy a new one immediately. If children don’t learn from their mistakes, they’re likely to repeat them—over and over and over again.

There’s a little Pinocchio in every toddler. Like Pinocchio, toddlers are relatively new to the world and inexperienced in its ways. Consequently, like Pinocchio, they’re curious, mischievous, fun-loving, sometimes painfully naive—and lacking that internal compass of right and wrong we call a conscience. Except, instead of a charismatic cricket standing by to provide them with the moral guidance they’re not yet able to provide themselves, toddlers have parents and caregivers to show them the way.

It’s their parents to whom toddlers look when they’re uncertain whether that cookie’s okay to take from the man behind the bakery counter; whether that toy’s okay to play with in the doctor’s waiting room. It’s their parents who tell them that hitting Jeremy when he’s got the truck they want is wrong, and that waiting your turn when three other kids are lined up at the slide is hard but right. It’s their parents who prod them to thank Aunt Marie for the jack-in-the-box she brought, and who discourage them from throwing sand at a playmate at the beach.

And like Pinocchio’s Jiminy Cricket, the parents of toddlers aren’t the permanent purveyors of conscience for their offspring. They’re merely moral stand-ins, distinguishing for their toddlers the difference between right and wrong until their toddlers are able to distinguish for themselves.

Young children, researchers believe, are motivated to behave morally by self-interest and fear of negative consequences. In the next stage of life, the motivation moves up a notch: Moral behavior is based on a desire for approval, a respect for higher authority, and an understanding of the need for maintaining the social order (“If everybody did this bad thing, what would happen?”). Generally, not until the teen years does a true sensitivity to the needs of others or a real concept of justice and
fairness develop. Without adequate moral guidance and example, though, many people never reach that stage.

But just because it’s too soon to expect consistently ethical behavior from your toddler—or even to expect an understanding of what ethical behavior is—doesn’t mean it’s too soon to start cultivating a conscience in your child. If you wait until your child is old enough to participate in a philosophical discussion about right and wrong, you’ve waited too long.