Each Sunday, my two oldest children eagerly anticipate the weekly sojourn to Dunkin' Donuts. (The Little Guy has not been given donuts, because his head would explode from a sugar high.) This isn't a fait accompli, though. This is a post-church donut run, and is contingent on their behavior during Mass.
Yes, to get good behavior from them, I dangle carrots. Or donuts.
They're good kids. So, mine is a cavernously empty threat. Even with good behavior, though, I still offer a re-cap of how things were good, and how they could've gone a little better. I give you this week's example...
Me: "Guys, today was pretty good. I really liked how you sat (mostly) still. During the sign of peace, though, you really should shake each other's hands."
The Boy: "But we don't want to shake each other's hands!"
Me: "I know, I get it. You really should, though. It's a sign that, deep down, you love each other and want us all to be peaceful."
The Boy: "I don't want to shake her hand because I know where her hand has been."
(The man walking in back of me with his four-year-old son chuckles. As do I.)
Me: "She washes her hands pretty often, honey."
The Boy: "I've seen her pick her nose!"
(Really hoping the man in back of me didn't hear that... Nope. More chuckling.)
The Girl: "It's true! Sometimes this finger," she jabs the air, "just finds its way up my nose!"
Me: "Okay, well... that's just a whole other thing we need to talk about."
And I gave them my permission not to shake hands during the sign of peace if they knew that the other one had gone digging for gold. I also refused to give them a donut until they'd washed their hands.
Yes, to get good behavior from them, I dangle carrots. Or donuts.
They're good kids. So, mine is a cavernously empty threat. Even with good behavior, though, I still offer a re-cap of how things were good, and how they could've gone a little better. I give you this week's example...
Me: "Guys, today was pretty good. I really liked how you sat (mostly) still. During the sign of peace, though, you really should shake each other's hands."
The Boy: "But we don't want to shake each other's hands!"
Me: "I know, I get it. You really should, though. It's a sign that, deep down, you love each other and want us all to be peaceful."
The Boy: "I don't want to shake her hand because I know where her hand has been."
(The man walking in back of me with his four-year-old son chuckles. As do I.)
Me: "She washes her hands pretty often, honey."
The Boy: "I've seen her pick her nose!"
(Really hoping the man in back of me didn't hear that... Nope. More chuckling.)
The Girl: "It's true! Sometimes this finger," she jabs the air, "just finds its way up my nose!"
Me: "Okay, well... that's just a whole other thing we need to talk about."
And I gave them my permission not to shake hands during the sign of peace if they knew that the other one had gone digging for gold. I also refused to give them a donut until they'd washed their hands.
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