A DAD'S LIFE:Younger daughter shows a soothing approach works best, writes ADAM BROPHY
SOMEWHERE along the way the younger child learned tact. Here’s a kid so shy she struggles to look anyone beyond family and bestest friends in the eye, and there’s a diplomat coming out.
It started with displays of empathy when her sister dug herself into a hole. The type of hole that involves tramping through the house just after it’s been vacuumed, wearing boots dripping mud, then looking at her parents slackjawed as we turn apoplectic all round her. Or, instead of grabbing her bag and heading for the car to get to school on time, lying down to play with the puppy and getting him so excited he pees on her. Then accusing me of being grumpy and hating the dog, both of which are true but irrelevant, as she stands there, sodden, when we were bang on schedule only moments before.
The elder digs herself into these holes with the kind of vacancy that nine year olds wear. They haven’t yet grasped the concept of personal responsibility but are chomping at the bit for as much freedom as possible. As a result, she boils my blood, I bark, she barks back, I bark louder. Then, in steps the peacemaker. At first she would wander by and let her hand brush by her sister’s. In recent times this has increased to walking up to her sister and hugging her whenever she sees she’s about to blow. Or has just blown.
In other families this may seem perfectly normal, a pair of sisters supporting each other in the face of authority, ie me, but it is unheard of under this roof. Standard operating procedure is to kick the one who is in trouble and curry favour with authority, ie me, by appearing angelic while sibling melts down. They have both in the past adopted this method, which is why the softening of the current practice is even odder, coming, as it does, from the younger child.
In fact, the first time the hug went in mid-apocalypse (and this may be the reason it has continued as a phenomenon), her sister’s reaction was so shocked, the barney with me was immediately forgotten. We all froze, wondering who was this stranger in our midst, handing out cuddles and being sensitive.
The hug aftermath is as strange as the act itself. She offers her sis a small squeeze on the wrist, then moves off on her way as if nothing has happened. I queried the missus on when this phenomenon had started and she informed me she has been the beneficiary herself of a number of these empathy hugs. They occur, it seems, when I’m being particularly obnoxious.
I may emerge from my cave blinking into the family light, grunt a complaint on the state of the place, inquire about availability of food and retire once again towards my desk. The younger seems to gauge who has been at the epicentre of my absentminded gruffness, wanders over and bestows a little kindness on them.
It’s nice to see this emotional development, but worrying that it is a result of my own emotional ineptitude. I wonder too, who is looking after her when she herself attracts my ire and a barrage of bark.
Her attempts to quell drama have had a knock-on effect. I have managed to calm her sister on a number of occasions as sibling tempers have risen. A simple reminder of a recent “love hug” has managed to soothe potential flashpoints before blood was drawn.
This causes me even more consternation. Not only am I the cause of her discovery of empathy, I am now manipulating it to keep the rest of the family in check. I wonder if parenting guides recommend this technique.
She’s even being tactful about my feelings. On her way for a haircut recently I suggested she chop her blond locks to a crop and dye them black. She checked out my head, which corresponds pretty much to this sort of style, and instead of insisting that would be disgusting, she told me my hair was nice on me but didn’t think that look would work for her.
What? Normally she likes to poke and prod me, tell me I’m too hairy, too smelly, too big, too slow, and now suddenly she’s like a pro husband answering his wife of 20 years’ inquiry as to whether her arse looks fat in anything. She has discovered, aged six, that a soothing approach brings richer fruit than confrontation.
I may have a crack at that myself in 2011.