MEETING OF THE MINDS

‘The whole summer?!’, she cried out, tears slowly streaming down her dirtied face. She and her sister were helping to update the front yard with black mulch.

‘We’re still discussing it’, I assured her. At least I had attempted to discuss it with her father, who had not yet decided on the length of time. Her stepmother urged her husband to be harsher, as did I.

‘I was planning on hanging out with my friends’, she continued.

‘You have to realise the severity of your actions’, I tried explaining. ‘It could have been much worse’. A few more minutes of going back and forth with my middle daughter ensued. My attempts at emphasizing the consequences of her actions last week when she blatantly disobeyed her father’s order and allowed her friend to drive the buggy, seemed to have no effect.

The result of her disobedience was that her friend took a sharp U-turn going at the highest set speed, overturned the buggy, and greatly damaged the vehicle. In addition, the only person hurt in this incident was our daughter who was sitting in the back.

‘What do you think should be your punishment’, I made an effort at a different approach.

She went on to give her input into her own terms of being grounded. No hanging out with friends until school is over next month and limited use of her devices. The parents’ decision to ban her from using the buggy until she turns 15, stayed. Nine months of no driving. In the meantime, she planned to educate herself in the rules of the road to prepare her for the real driving test when she would be able to drive a real car with her driver’s permit at 15½.

To all of those conditions, I also added the element of reading books. Something I knew would not be to her liking. The book I ordered for her, the same one by Mark Manson that I am now reading, had arrived this afternoon before my son and I dropped by. Our intention was to simply drop off the lemon scones I made this morning and pick up my son’s kickboxing bag from yesterday’s class. Instead, I ended up talking to both of my daughters, their father – very briefly, and the stepmother – not in the slightest bit ‘briefly’.

At one point, we three adults agreed on the terms. A meeting of the minds. An agreement. Coming together as we should have been doing all along.

After the decision was made, and the terms established, I climbed back into my minivan and headed home. My son stayed behind and played on the trampoline with his sisters. After his father finished the laying of the mulch in the front yard, he got together with our son to do what he enjoys most. Playing with electronics. In this case, the Raspberry Pi.

Sometimes we realise we need to let go of preconceived notions and give collaboration a chance. For the good of not only the children but everyone involved in the raising of the children.