1 Strike and You Are Out

by beagooddad on July 14, 2008

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We normally operate under some kind of a 3 strikes and your out rule when dealing with the kids’ discipline. Pookie normally gets more generic warnings. I would worry that he would try to fill the check boxes because he likes to complete everything.

Geetle has learned that if there are 3 check boxes, you can get 2 marks and nothing happens. So she will sometimes turn into a little monster for about 10 minutes, rack up 2 marks, and then go calmly about the rest of the day. Before I go on, I would like to point out that this is not a regular, frequent occurrence. She really is a great kid that rarely gets into trouble for anything more serious than being too sassy.

Anyway, the amount of sassy talk has been a little heavy over the last week or so. On Friday, I drove home around lunchtime and worked the afternoon from the basement. On the way home, I saw BAGM and my sister with the kids at the park so I stopped in to say hi. Geetle was annoyed at some particular piece of horribleness that was being forced upon her. I think it had something to do with playing on the new equipment that we were all right next to instead of the old equipment that is about one soccer field away. They were getting ready to leave and starting to round up the herd of kids (we had a couple other playdate kids they were watching that day).

Geetle starts mouthing off so I told her to sit down and be quiet for a few minutes. She sat down but forgot about the being quiet and started saying some mean things. I walked over, picked her up and carried her (literally kicking and screaming – she lost her flip flops along the way) to the car, shoved her into her seat, ignored her yelling the entire drive home (snot was running freely down her face and she kept saying “I’ll be good now. Can we go back” which is her paraphrased way of saying “Where the hell are my 2nd and 3rd strike?”), and put her on the naughty chair for about 15 minutes (we normally only put them there for 5 minutes).

Afterward, she apologized for real and we talked about how sometimes she is not going to get 3 checks and she just needs to remember to always try to be good.

Another place we fairly normally get Geetle grief is at the dinner table. The kids know they don’t get seconds until they at least try everything on their plate. Last night we had mac & cheese, hot dogs, and mashed potatoes. Geetle didn’t want the mashed potatoes. Neither did Pookie. We reminded them a few times throughout the meal that they should try the mashed potatoes (which by the way Giggles LOVES). Pookie eventually tried a bite.

After dinner, we cleaned up the table. Then Pookie and I sat down and had these special frosted cookies I had picked up earlier in the day from Meijer. Geetle suddenly regretted her decision to not try the potatoes but we had already cleared the table so there was no way she could try them at that point. We’ve been through the whole not going to eat something unless a treat is promised. I did not mention the cookies until we had already cleared the table.

She knows the rules and just chooses to push them as far as we let her. Most of the time we explain what we want and the consequences, and give warnings. Every once in a while we have to resort to quick action to remind her that the rules we have in place are really rules she should be following no matter how many strikes she has that day.

For the record, Pookie also had a 1 strike and you’re out situation this weekend. We have a fairly big patch of dirt from where we pulled up most of the deck this spring. When it rains, it turns to really muddy mud. Pookie likes really muddy mud. We do not like cleaning the muddy mudded shoes. Saturday, I sent them into the back yard with directions to stay out of the mud. Pookie did fine for about twenty minutes. The first two times I saw him step in, I told him to get out. The third time I made him come in (which made him mad). On Sunday, the first time I saw him go in, I made him come in and told him he was done in the backyard for the day because we do not play in the mud. He was mad and understood why I made him come in but disagreed with my distaste for muddy shoes.

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