I almost shrieked this last night, in the manner of Mrs. Bennett, when at the last second I realized I didn't have enough of a sense of humor about the situation to quote movie lines. So instead I said, very quietly, firmly, and calmly, "Daltonboy? Wake up." And that is not where our story starts.
It starts with me feeling very proud of myself for getting daltonboy to sleep before 10:00 p.m. He was very tired, and happy to comply. I snuggled up with my book, and began to read. At about 10:05 I fell asleep with the reading lamp on, and my book open. At 10:30 there was a tap on my door. I may have mentioned I'm a very light sleeper. I answered immediately, not too irritated, because I needed to turn the light out and put my book away anyway. Lola was outside, crying. This is not unusual, but then she said she smelled smoke. I lay there, sniffing and thinking. I smelled smoke too.
Lola and I proceeded to search the house for the source of the smoke. It was much stronger in the kitchen, so we took some time to investigate there. No signs, except for the slightly cloudy air that seemed to be filling the entire house. Something was definitely wrong. Searching, searching, becoming more nervous by the minute, we couldn't find anything. Finally I thought, "Smoke rises. Maybe we should go downstairs." So we did. I decided to check the furnace room last, since that was the scariest prospect. Nothing seemed amiss downstairs, either. Next to last was dalton"man's" room. I opened the door without knocking, taking care to note that the doorknob was not hot. If it had been, I would have run away. The light was on. Dalton"man" was nowhere to be seen. The smell was somewhat stronger. He peeked out from behind the door. I trust you will be able to identify the speakers without the use of tags.
"What are you doing?"
"Nothing."
I looked down. There was a can of Pam on the floor. This seemed strange to me, because as far as I know, there are few uses for non-stick spray outside the kitchen.
"Why is there a can of Pam on the floor?"
"Uh . . . because I was trying to light it on fire?"
I was using my Very Calm, Very Controlled, Very Quiet voice. Those of you with parents know that this means I was very, very, very angry.
"I see."
"But it's not really working."
Pause, accompanied by nervous laugh.
"I'm not wearing a shirt right now. Hee."
"Ahem. Are you using . . . matches?"
Rules have been clearly set forth on the use of matches in bedrooms. More than once. We oppose the practice.
"Yeah. But I'm going to stop now."
"I think that's a very good idea."
Not trusting myself to say more without employing extreme amounts of profanity, I turned and went back up the stairs. I asked Lola to wait outside while I went in and talked to Dad. That's when I went in and sat on the bed and summoned daltonboy from the dead. And then I said, very quietly, "dalton'man' is burning things in his room. I want you to go downstairs and kill him." And I waited for him to shake himself awake, put on his robe and go downstairs. Then I told Lola she could come in. The girl was very much shaken, because of course she thought the house was burning down, and we were going to be murdered in our beds, so we snuggled a little and tried to calm down. Then I sent her back to bed.
Daltonboy came back with the air of one who has adequately performed his duty, in spite of being half asleep. He put the confiscated matches back in their proper place, in the kitchen, making them available to any idiot (or arsonist) who felt like accessing them in the middle of the night. As he climbed back into bed, I asked if there was a corpse in the basement. He said no. I told him to go back downstairs and do the job right. He fell asleep. I woke him up to ask what exactly was going on down there. He told me that dalton"man" had been burning things and dropping the ashes into a ceramic cup. Also, he was burning incense. The window was open, so . . . And, oh! Of course there was that thing with the aerosol can. Then he fell asleep again.
So now I'm taking matters into my own tentacles, looking for some natural consequences to impose on dalton"man." It seems to me that simply telling someone they have acted in an immature way falls short of the necessary action, especially when they are endangering lives. Daltonboy may or may not be up to the task of coming up with said consequences. Now that he's had almost seven hours of sleep, we'll have to see if he can come through. In the meantime, suggestions?
My favorite so far is Miss Nemesis' (oh, so aptly named!) suggestion that I take all his stuff out and have it in a burning pile in the driveway when he gets home from school. When he wants to know what I'm doing, I say, "What? This is what you were trying to do to MY HOUSE last night!"
One thing is for sure: I will not trust myself to speak to certain people until I know I can do it without saying something a) hurtful or b) profane. Judging from the way I feel at this moment, it may be a while.
10 comments:
I'm ever-so-glad that yet again, you were not murdered in your beds. I think that the appropriate punishment for Dalton"man" would be to make him buy his own home and burn it to the ground. Afterall, if he's a man, he can have manly responsibilities, and one of those responsibilities is home-owning.
One of the principles of learning I studied in my psych class is that of exhaustive repetition. So if you have the "man" light, say, 1000 matches in a row in a safe environment, he will probably not have much desire to continue the punishment in his own room. And hey, he might burn himself a few times, which is probably better than death, because the pain lasts longer.
Oh! Excellent suggestion, limon, even though Cicada's suggestion would bring ME more personal satisfaction at the moment. Daltonboy leans toward your way of thinking, so we can possibly make this work.
I have no suggestions for DaltonMan's punishment, as I am a Love and Logic drop-out. I, like you, had a real problem figuring out natural consequences to fit the crime. When I (almost-seriously) replied that a good consequence for writing on the wall was to be stabbed with a pencil, it was decided that another parenting technique would have to be employed in my home (and, yes, I realize that this is where LittleMr.Furious gets it -- I am a ticking time bomb of fury). My favorite consequence right now is the really long lecture, employing words like 'idiotic' and 'freakish'. See, no name calling, just labeling the actions. Give it a try. Also, I have a fire-extinguisher you can borrow.
I have a fire extinguisher. At about midnight, when I was still sitting around fuming (Ha!), I thought about taking it down to his room and spraying it all over him. But then I decided to go to bed and think some more about it in the morning. And the more I think, the more I'm loving Limon's suggestion. Maybe you should force your kids to color all over the walls for ten hours straight. Lectures don't affect my kids. They tune out.
Ooooo oooooo oooooo! DG, that reminds me of one of the coolest punishments I've ever heard of. In fact, it's so cool that I'll blog about it myself.
DG, check out Bedelia's comment on my blog.
Uncanny. Or IS it?
I'm feeling better and better about the matches idea. Also you could make him do it while he's tired, then he'll be more likely to burn himself.
Just a thought.
I'm a very non-hellfire and damnation sort of person. I think that the best way to dissuade bad behaviour is understanding and knowledge. Why do you personally not light things on fire in your bedroom. It's because you understand the consequences. He probably "knows" the consequences but fails to "understand" the consequences.
I'm opposed to lecturing. Firstly, it's very easy to tune out. Secondly, it's also very unpleasant for both parties. It's nothing more than an opportunity for the parent to try to reconcile their anger by saying hurtful things. After the lecture, you feel guilty because you went to far, and now you have two guilty parties where once their was one.
I am not a huge fan of many forms of punishment. President Hinckley explains that we need less punishment and more discipline. Punishment gives a hurt parent the chance to strike back. Discipline comes from the same root as disciple and implies teaching.
Punishment causes a child to not do things out of fear rather than understanding. If a child is instilled with fear, they will not be able to function in the real world, where the fear of your retribution is gone. If they learn to not light matches in the house because they'll have to light 1,000 matches, then they'll never understand the real reason.
I am always amazed at many people's views of doing bad things at my age. Many people seem to be completely unaware of the natural consequences of their actions. They are only aware of punishment on discovery. That is not a healthy world view when you are 25. Here comes an example.
I was riding in a car late at night with a friend when we came upon some horses behind a fence. She loves horses. She recommended that we jump the fence and ride the horses. I didn't think we should, to which she replied that no one would catch her. I was surprised at her response. I didn't care if we got caught. I cared that we were trespassing on someone elses property and riding their horses. I know I wouldn't want someone doing that to my property. It seemed, to me, to be a consequence of having been taught through retribution rather than learning the natural consequences of misdeeds.
So, that said, my opinion is that you should sit down and talk to the child. Do not lecture and do not get angry. Just talk with the child about why you shouldn't light matches in the house. Discuss the possible natural consequences that could have resulted. Discuss why it made you mad. Talk not as a parent but as a mentor. And finally ask him what he thinks the punishment should be (if any). If he is truly repentant and will not do it again, then there is no need for a punishment. But agreeing on the punishment together makes for a mutually-acceptable situation. He will not see the punishment as something that you are placing upon him.
Since I've already written too much, I might as well write one more paragraph. I'd like to empathize with dalton'man'. The stupid things you do as a male adolescent are great in number. I remember dipping tennis balls in gasoline and playing baseball with them. We would sit on my friends porch for hours torching spiders with WD40 and matches. We would have match fights. We would shoot bottle-rockets at each other. We would ride down my friend's gravel hill in a red rider wagon. Doing stupid stuff is part of being a child (a part that I greatly miss, I'm a wuss now). So, from someone who has been there before, go easy on him. He'll learn if you let him.
Lastly, good luck.
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