Two can play that game

Children can be quite wily. From pretending to be sick in order to stay home from school, to devising elaborate schemes to get younger siblings to do their chores, they think they know all the tricks in the book. Little do they know that we, parents, have made major contributions to the stratagem volumes written during our respective generations, all of which always come full circle.

By now #1 son (as referenced by a friend) has figured out that the fake-sick farce is quite useless. The first time he tried it, I admit it worked. But, the moment I noticed that as soon as he knew the school bell had rung all aches and pains had magically disappeared, I temporarily fixed that the second time around. When I am sick all I want to do is rest – he didn’t take to keenly to having to lie down doing NOTHING all day. I know I’ll have to come up with a different ‘fix’ when he becomes a teenager, because, lets face it, lying around doing nothing all day is every teenager’s dream.

Over the years I, like most other parents, have been forced to come up with a few gambits of my own. Here are my top picks.

Nap time is calling

Once my son was old enough to be left to go on his imaginary trips without much supervision, I developed this little Saturday afternoon routine that involves a much-needed nap that lasts at least three hours. I would inform him that it’s time and remind him of the rules. “Don’t open any doors, don’t play with sharp objects or matches… wake me up only if there is an emergency.” Yet, there was a time when my nap used to be intermittently interrupted by “Mom! Come see this!” or “Mom I need a snack!” I quickly fixed that with a simple, “I’m going to take my nap. You know the rules… As SOON as I wake up we will start doing homework.” There has never been a nap interruption since, except that one time a small piece of chicken bone got lodged in his throat, which, of course, counts as an emergency – another story for another time.

Sip ‘n swim

No matter how fun I try to make it, homework is always a contentious issue in my home. I lied. I don’t even know how to begin to make it fun so I don’t even try. In fact, I don’t think any parent knows how. But homework is academic oxygen so we have to find ways to get it done, hopefully without inciting an inhouse civil war. One of my go-to carrots is a swim. “I’ll call Ethan’s mom and ask her if you can go over for a swim when you’ve completed your homework.” Homework gets done, he and Ethan swim while his mother and I sip wine, poolside. He doesn’t have to know that Ethan’s mother had called a few days prior and extended an invitation for me to come over to have a drink, and that their swimming was just aside. I’m almost certain Ethan’s homework was completed too. Well played Ethan’s mom.

Hair’s the thing

His decision to allow his hair to grow and eventually have it braided has provided me with another round of ammunition in the battle to get things done around the house. How? Because I am the one who does the plaiting and I can’t very well chance getting my hands injured by having to do everything. Think of all the splinters I could get in my fingers from having to tend to the plants, and how water-logged my cuticles will be after having to wash dishes all day. And what of the paper cuts while doing the bulk of the work on his Social Studies projects? I hear they can be quite painful. The way I see it, getting your hair braided equals helping out more around the house. I think he is beginning to see the bigger picture.

Spicing it up

I have never come across a young child who doesn’t prefer the food on their parent’s plate over the very same food that sits on their little plates. Somehow mummy’s chicken or daddy’s fish always tastes better. “Come on nah mom! Just a little bite,” I have heard on so many occasions. But I have also come across very few children who like spicy foods. My ten-year-old will devour a bowl of slightly-peppery chow in seconds, but when it comes to his food, he can’t tolerate spicy. So what do I do? Just add a little bit of pepper to my food and voilà! Problem solved.

Colour me blue

I wish I could take the credit for this one but I stole it from his teacher. Apparently he and his classmates have a way of detonating little butt grenades during class time, causing somewhat of a distraction. And since Miss is having a hard time getting them to excuse themselves when they feel the urge to annihilate half of the school population, she has threatened to bring a can of spray to school to use whenever a foul smell starts circulating the classroom. Not air freshener, though. A spray, she claims, will turn the air around the perpetrator blue and everyone will know who he or she is. “I got so nervous that I started asking Miss to go to the washroom whenever I feel like I want to fart,” he told me. I shrewdly stifled a laugh and crossed my fingers in hope that his new-found class courtesy will turn into a habit that will transition into home life.