Saturday, April 13, 2013
Playtime At Home And Nearby
I've been writing a lot of serious blogs lately Right now I'm listening to my older son (five years old) screaming and crying and raising holy heck because Karyn (age three) doesn't want to play the way he wants her to play. Karyn just a minute ago came in the front door and locked it behind, then ran out onto the back porch, which is fenced in with the gate locked. That's my girl. Colin hasn't detected that he's locked out of the house yet.
I wonder if I should interfere. I read articles saying to let the kids work it out if no one is getting physically hurt, yet I also read articles about when the police or CPS get called for parents doing just that. As far as memory serves me, my mom didn't interfere that much when Matt and I got into arguments, as long as we weren't hammer fisting each other, she seemed content.
I think today's disagreement has to do with the fact that Colin wants to take Karyn "sledding" in a cardboard box out in the field, but she wants to play on the back porch with sticks.
Now it's been 20 minutes since I started this article (yes, my time and occupations are highly interrupted) and I've unlocked the front door, Colin has calmed down and decided to go through the house, onto the porch, and try to persuade his sister to come out and play instead of screaming at her. Hmm. That worked much better. Now they are out front playing with the box.
Five minutes later: Now Karyn wants to return to the back porch and they are in the house fighting over it again. Colin is unarmed, but Karyn has a stick. It's coming to blows, I guess I should say something.
2 minutes later: Colin has run screaming out the front door and Karyn is on the back porch again and still has her stick. I didn't get to separate them. I was about to when Colin ran off. Maybe I should have him take a nap when he comes back in.
Another five minutes later: Colin again is trying to persuade Karyn to play with him. He is calling her by her nickname "Samus", but it isn't working and he's getting mad again.
One minute later: They've reached a compromise and are alternating between playing on the back porch with a laundry basket and hitting each other with the basket.
Days like this make me wonder why I get toys for them, or why I haven't elected to have my eardrums amputated.