Sometimes you just have to force kids to do what they don’t want against their will.
The problem with coercion is it oftentimes appears cruel and mean while it’s taking place. That bothered us for many years, but we are over it now because we know what’s best for our sons. If they won’t trust us that this or that will be fun and enjoyable, we have to make them do it. It’s a simple approach and here are a few examples to prove the point.
•There was a time when Beckett was afraid of fireworks because they hurt his ears. It was more than a fear and became a phobia for a while.
Two years ago, while on a Disney cruise, he got himself worked up to the point over the fireworks later that night he gave himself a migraine.
During each cruise, there is at least one night when fireworks are shot off the ship. Because it was simply not worth the fight at that time, I offered to take one for the team and stay with him in the room while Pam and Carson went to the top deck to watch the fireworks. After they were over, he said he was feeling better and wanted to go to the kids club. That idea was shot down, but it was at that moment I vowed to make him go see fireworks the next time we could.
I can’t remember why we didn’t go to the fireworks last summer at all, but the next occasion arose on our next Disney cruise when there were two nights of fireworks planned — one for pirate night and another for Star Wars day at sea. We weren’t going to take no for an answer this time. He was nervous about it but once he realized we were not going to budge he accepted it.
Lo and behold, he loved it. He started with his hands completely covering his ears and by the end was in awe of the sights. Instead of over his ears, he was using his hands to clap.
When Monday’s fireworks rolled around in Berlin, there was no fight involved.
Later that night I reminded him how fireworks used to scare him. That’s when my 9-year-old said, “That’s back when I was just a stupid kid and didn’t know any better.”
Those were his words but similar to what I was thinking.
•In the early part of summer, there’s always a certain persuasion involved with getting Carson in the ocean. This year it essentially took me picking him up and carrying him in against his will.
The only reason I would torment him like that is because he loves it once he’s in and realizes he is safe. He is just intimidated at first by the uncertainty of it at all and is reluctant.
A couple weeks ago, after a few beach outings when I didn’t force it, I decided it was time for him to join me and Beckett in the water. Plus, I was feeling guilty because Pam had been playing chess and card games with him while we enjoyed the ocean.
I’m sure it appeared like a mild form of child abuse or torture to nearby strangers as I dragged him to the water’s edge, but I had to force the matter to remind him he loves the ocean. His cries soon turned to laughter. His only requirement was that I hold his hand in some fashion and go under the waves with him.
That’s fine at 7 years of age, but moving ahead some independence is the goal.
•When I was young, I recall a standoff at the Alaska Stand on 9th Street with my stepfather. I was refusing to eat a cheeseburger because it had white cheese on it. To me, all cheese was orange, as in the American slices you buy at the grocery store.
I don’t remember the breaking point but at some point I agreed to try the burger at the insistence of my stepdad, who I’m sure had to resort to all sorts of threats, ultimatums and bargains to get me to take a bite. A love affair with those burgers and cheese dogs has endured ever since.
I soon realized how ridiculous I was being and I think back on those days often today as I deal with similar antics from my sons on a routine basis. Although they have their moments, for the most part, my kids are willing to try different foods. They do often get hung up in the appearance of their food, but they are a lot less picky than I was at their age.
If all fried chicken doesn’t resemble that from Royal Farms, they are reluctant to try it. If chicken nuggets don’t appear oval (and gross) like McDonalds, they give them the slant eye. If there is one black seed in a piece of a watermelon, they will not eat it, even if it’s removed.
I remember the first time Beckett ordered a burger out in a restaurant and it came with white cheese. He hunched his shoulders, asking about it, but then just added some ketchup and didn’t think twice about it. I was relieved I was not going to have déjà vu from my silly childhood.
Last week he proved to not be so easy going when he picked out every single tomato piece from a leftover seafood pasta dish I brought home from Mancini’s in Fenwick. He loved the meal but left behind a pile of tomatoes. When I tried to talk to him about why he did it, he said he didn’t like tomatoes, despite finishing every bit of the pasta and sauce.
At that point, I didn’t even bother going into what he thought was included in the sauce.
