Getting down and dirty in the sibling wars
YOU SHOULDN’T wind up your kids, should you? It can’t be good parenting. But sometimes it seems appropriate, as if to show you’re human too, not just a layer-down of law, a provider of funds and grumpy chauffeur.
They’ve been off school a few weeks now, long enough for the newness to have worn off and a sense of non-routine to have become routine.
They know we’ve planned certain weeks for them in the near future when they’ll either be off on holidays or going to camps, but they also acknowledge that there are weeks of nothingness on the cards. Weeks where, for the most part, they’ll be hanging around with each other.
In fairness to them, this doesn’t mean blood will always be spilt. The elder has discovered the library and is currently soaking up every title with a pony on the cover. The younger can occupy herself for hours with Playmobil and Lego. They will come together, combine forces and create new worlds when their own imaginations approach fatigue. And these events will generally be harmonious affairs.
But it only takes one squawk of indignation for the whole happy house of cards to come crashing down. The squawk is generally the property of the younger. At the first sign of disagreement the squawk is deployed, an attitude that drives the elder to despair.
Unfortunately that despair does not translate to her responding rationally and explaining whatever statement or act has resulted in the younger’s indignation. No, she has her own set of squawks from which to choose in response.
Once squawking has begun, any hope of reasonable discourse goes out the window. The civilised game of Uno in the living room is suddenly hurtling towards sibling armageddon.
The first few hundred times this happens, you play it rationally. You do what the parenting manuals tell you: don’t interfere, allow them the space to negotiate their difficulties by themselves; monitor from a distance, but ensure that they can talk through whatever has caused the conflict and come to a resolution of their own accord.
When this fails abysmally, over and over again, and you’ve spent a full couple of weekends removing hard plastic toys from both children’s nasal passages, you resolve to intervene a little earlier in future. But not in an overwhelming manner such as the overbearing parents use.
You will interject before tempers fray and, in the manner of a couples’ counsellor, reflect what each party is saying. This is known as facilitating hearing, so the protagonists may finally come to grips with the behaviour that offends the other.
In doing so, they will realise that their reactions are not the perceived hurts, but engrained behaviour that arises with each dispute.
This works insofar as both children now have a common enemy in you. Whatever you say, however gently you frame it, you will be accused by both of siding with the other.
Time to get Dickensian. No matter where it happens, whether in the privacy of your own home or the hushed setting of a royal wedding, once the bicker tones start to rise you go for the jugular.
“One more word outta either of you and you’re going in the car boot. I don’t care if I go to jail, I’ll claim provocation, I’ll supply an air hole, no jury in the land would convict. Now SHUT UP!”
Again, initially you feel better just for getting the frustration out but two things will result. They’ll see through your idle threats and quickly begin to use them against you. “Last week you said you’d cook me with the chicken and look, I’m still here, skin not crispy or nothing. You’re all talk.”
Furthermore, threats of aggression only provide them with additional tools to use on each other once they’ve turned the focus away from you.
Nah, I’ve decided the only approach is to join in. Whatever the row, no matter how petty, how emotive, jump in there and taunt.
Whatever they say to one another, give it to both of them. Stamp, bang your fist on the table, kick things, stick out your tongue. As long as you’re an equal opportunities abuser and don’t side with one over the other, this can be considered even-handed parenting.
They haven’t figured out a response yet, and I’m having a whale of a time.
abrophy@irishtimes.com