A Healer’s Geste

Battle plans

Whining is not allowed in our house. It is Hans’ pet sin. Yes, it is a sin; it is one manifestation of a bad attitude, which is a sin. Helping Hans to battle against it (that is the purpose of discipline — not punishment whereby I battle Hans, but discipline whereby I help him correct it) is a humbling experience and a constant reminder to myself (or should be) as I stare in the face of kitchens that are clean only to be used to make yet another meal and diapers that are changed only to be soiled again. Here comes my boy, whining. I must remind him — and how I do it depends on the situation, and, unfortunately, too often my own mood — that a bad attitude is a sin and is not loving God or keeping His commandments (How can we glorify God?). God wants us to be cheerful, even when we don’t get what we want. I have to remember to take that lesson myself as often as I give it.

Yet, lately Hans has found a new way to whine. Any “no” or “wait” — no matter the tone or words I use — prevokes a little fakey, pouty cry “eh-heh, eh-heh, eh-heh.” Today, my method of dealing with it has been to flick his cheek right by his mouth immediately upon him making the sound (so I’ve had to make an effort to be very near by him when speaking with him). This makes him cry outright, but for hurt feelings more than sting, because it hardly hurts at all. Yes, the past few days Hans has become a cry-baby. He talks in a baby voice sometimes, he cries over a cross look (preventative crying — the look didn’t change his soft heart, he’s crying manipulatively to by-pass any lecture or a stinging of any sort). He wants to hug a long time after any rebuke of any sort, but it doesn’t seem like a genuine thing, it seems like more preventative measures. He doesn’t want me to talk to him about his actions or his attitude.

Right now he’s in bed. It was time for Jaeger’s morning nap, anyway, and Hans went down with him. The set-up: Both boys follow me down the hall. We are all amiable. As I try to keep Jaeger from the base of the toilet, Hans has a cup in hand and asks politely for water. I say, “Yup, in a minute, Hans, I’ll get you some water.” As soon as “in a minute” escapes my lips, he does the pouty cry and I am astonished. It is obvious that I can’t immediately get him water and I cheerfully told him it would be the next thing I did. He was within range and I flicked his cheek as soon as the pouty cry escaped his lips. He breaks into tears and backs away, increasing his volume as soon as I began to tell him why I did it. He refuses to listen, he backs away. As soon as possible, I am right next to him, again trying to talk to him. He cries and turns his face. I can’t believe it; all I am trying to do is explain why I flicked him, tell him he needs to be patient, and now I am able to get him water. I decide to simply toss him into bed. I tell him he needs a nap because he’s unreasonable. He cries for 2 minutes, and now he is silent.

I don’t know if it was the right thing to do. He was unreasonable when he should have listened, understood, and turned off the crying immediately — and he could have; I have seen him do it. He was making no effort. Perhaps a nap is what he needed. Perhaps it was a heart issue. It stinks when it’s so hard to tell. Unfortunately, it fits in with the recent trend and I need to be prepared to deal with it.

Here is another battle. I have to remember that I am not battling Hans, I am battling his sinful nature. To do so, I must battle my own as well or it will be ineffective and I will be a hypocrit. My goal must be to teach him to do his own battles. It is a battle of learning self-control. He is old enough for the lesson; he can do it. This post is to reinforce all this is my own mind. I can’t handle it spontaneously or I will respond depending solely on my mood. Battles require tactics and plans.

Tactics:

1. Remove as many physical handicaps as possible. Keep him well-fed, keep him rested, make sure you give him hugs and talk to him positively frequently. It may not be a good idea to let him play outside by himself for a couple days, to make sure it is not a lack of Mommy time he’s craving.

2. Pay attention. Watch for whining and address it right away. Be consistant and appropriate in handling it. Whining words must be repeated until said cheerfully. Pouty crying gets a flick near the mouth. Fits need one-on-one handling in the bedroom. Hans usually stays low-level, so I have to tune my radar to where he is, not wait for it to grow into fits.

3. Get at the core problem: indulgence v. self-control. Crying is allowed when he is genuinely hurt, and a brief period of repentant crying after any discipline is allowed as long as it is not being used to tune me out. He must be required to stop. I won’t wait for him to stop. He has to learn to control it, so I have to require him to stop. I let him know it is becoming an obedience issue. He must choose to obey.

4. Remember restoration. Every encounter must be followed by a return to fellowship. He must ask for and receive forgiveness. Once forgiveness happens, it’s gone — as far as the east is from the west, so far are our sins removed. I must make a conscious effort to convey that he is restored and forgiven and we are all a happy family now because he did the right thing. The atmosphere should be one of fellowship and joy so that he won’t want to break it.

5. Above all, make sure he’s the one breaking fellowship by whining and I am not the one who has in my own heart broken it by having a bad attitude that he has caught onto. If he is mirroring what he sees (and little ones intuitively know what is beneath the surface), it’s my fault I must repent of.

So, that’s my plan of action. God grant me the grace to carry it out and the grace to turn our hearts toward Himself. Unfortunately, in an hour we’ll be leaving and I will hardly see him the rest of the day, so this resolve will have to stick until tomorrow. Hence, the post. I hope this will make it stick.