Chapter 25 - Lily stops trying to be good
That sentence sounds terrible.
It was wonderful.
At four, Lily asked:
“Was I good?”
Constantly.
After dinner.
After preschool.
After babysitter.
After calls.
Good meant:
Will Daddy come home?
We changed language.
“How was your day?”
“What was hard?”
“What was fun?”
“Anything you want help with?”
At five, the:
good
question decreased.
At six, it became:
“Did I get in trouble?”
Normal.
At seven, she argued like an attorney.
One evening she refused to put away markers.
I said:
“Markers away before television.”
“No.”
“Then no television.”
She stared.
“You’re being mean.”
“Possible.”
“Claire took stuff.”
The comparison arrived occasionally.
I did not retreat from every limit.
“I am taking television until the markers are put away. I am not taking your mother’s photograph, food, letters, or access to me.”
She frowned.
“Still mean.”
“Allowed opinion.”
She stomped.
Put markers away.
Watched television.
That was the distinction I worked hardest to preserve.
After coercion, parents can become afraid to parent.
No.
Children still need limits.
The question is whether the consequence is:
Predictable.
Proportional.
Connected.
And leaves their basic belonging untouched.
Lily could lose screen time.
She could not lose Dad.
She could lose dessert for an ordinary dinner rule sometimes.
She could not lose meals.
She could be asked to help clean a spill.
She could not be dressed as a servant to make humiliation memorable.
Authority remained.
Cruelty left.
May you like
That was the goal.
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