It’s Friday afternoon. We’ve just come back from picking up my younger son at preschool. The ride home was relatively quiet. The boys listened to music and I thought, “this is nice.”
As soon as we walked through the door, they started their Friday afternoon bickering routine. I sat down at the computer with headphones on and volume turned up, but I could still hear the screeching. No words, just screeching from the 4-year-old. Then I thought, “well, this really sucks…again.”
So, of course, I yelled: “Stop yelling!” My 8-year-old, accustomed to my yelling this command, says “Okay!”
Moments later, more screeching.
I lost my ever-loving mind and called both of them downstairs.
“WHAT are you fighting about?!”
“I dunno. Nothing.” says the 8-year-old, eyes averted and body half turned to run back upstairs.
“He hit me!” cries the 4-year-old, rubbing his eyes (that were suspiciously dry).
“No I didn’t, but he spit in my hair,” as he points to a head of dry hair.
And just like that, I realized the error of my ways. I got involved.
“Go upstairs to your own rooms and stay there until I tell you to come back down.”
They were quiet upstairs for the next 45 minutes while I continued to work and make dinner.
They came downstairs, sat at the table, happily munched their pizza, joked, and generally got along for the rest of the night.
And I could have ruined it all.
I learned a while ago to stop getting involved in ridiculous kid fights. When my older son was a toddler, he and my nephew (who is just over a year younger) would have fights while my sister and I visited with my mom. They would each take turns coming downstairs to tell us that the other said that they weren’t cousins anymore because [INSERT RIDICULOUS BEHAVIOR HERE]. My sister and I initially tried to mediate. We’d call the other child downstairs and try to get them to make up. Five minutes after hugs were exchanged and cousinhood was re-instated, a child was downstairs telling us about another fight. After a while, we would see a child, point at him before he’d said one word and say, “I don’t care. Go upstairs.” They would stammer and try to convince us that this time, they really needed our counsel. And after they got out a couple of sentences, we’d say, “I don’t care. Go upstairs and figure it out.”
My husband held out longer and futilely continued to insert himself between the bickering cousins. Then he’d come and complain to me that they were fighting. Ugh. I had to tell him, “SHUT OFF your hearing and walk out of range. They won’t stop if you keep involving yourself.”
Now sometimes things really do require our intervention, but those times are rare. Most of my interventions usually involve sending them to their separate rooms so they can be alone for a while. Their hearts grow fonder and, before I know it, I hear giggling. So I just ignore the arguments to the best of my ability. Whether it is my boys or all the cousins, I tell them to talk to each other about what they are upset about and figure it out. Usually, they tell the other kid what they did wrong; the other kid denies and accuses the first kid of something equally heinous. I stifle laughter (if I’m even listening) and tell them “Good. Go upstairs again. I’m watching a grown-up show.”
Maybe you think I’m neglecting them, but no one is bleeding and I cannot pretend to care whose turn it is to pretend to be the T-Rex or Black Panther this time. As dumb as their fights get, it’s too stressful to focus on them all day. I cannot do it. My only escape is to tell them to go upstairs if they need to bicker. I don’t want to hear it, and I feel like that is the only way they’ll learn to deal with conflict. Although they don’t seem to listen to me most days based on the fact that I have to repeat myself at least 17 times a day, by this point they can at least intuit what decision Mom will come to. It’s not like they have new fights. It’s always about sharing or taking turns or what show to watch.
I won’t always be there to figure out what is fair. They don’t even ever agree with my definition of fairness. They can come up with creative solutions that work for them (like “If you let me be T-Rex, you can be Spiderman,” or “I’ll be Red Panther and you be Black Panther!”) that I would never think of. Besides, they always make up in the end.
I get that I may be very lucky. My sister and I probably could have used more interventions in our fighting when we were younger (because I was mean as hell to her), but my boys and their cousins really get along well and are pretty chill. I also intervene more frequently when I don’t know the other kid as well. It usually ends up with my deciding that my kid needs to defer to his friend as a “guest.” But once the kid loses guest status (by virtue of coming over often enough to feel comfortable with us), it’s right back to “go figure it out.”
So I’ll keep watching my grown-up shows or blasting classical music (read: Rihanna and Beyoncé) on my headphones while my children figure out their own version of world peace. How do YOU handle your kids’ conflicts?
