A couple of weeks back, I picked the offspring up from school and kinder, raced home and in my 15 seconds between arriving home and leaving for the next part of the evening’s adventures (basketball training in this instance), I make myself a much needed MUG of coffee, yelled much about getting shoes on, had much discussion about where shoes might be and if he Just Put Them In The Same Place Each Week They’d Be Easier To Find, fended off the “what’s for dinner?” questions, rang hubby to find out what he hell he was doing and when he would be likely to grace our home with his presence and found myself waist deep in the But I Don’t Want To Come discussion with the child whom was not required at basketball training and whom hates sports of any kind.
A normal evening for many, I’m sure.
I took off for basketball training, with the appropriate child. About halfway into the training session, a call from home came.
I’ve learnt not to panic, as it is generally someone wanting to play an iPod or watch a movie or finding out what time I’ll be home, despite it being exactly the same time each week and my having told them seventeen times.
There was no cause to panic this time either.
This time, I am asked “What do you want for dinner and what time should I start cooking?”
Yes, I did a happy dance, clenched my fist and yelled “YES!” when I hung up the phone.
A bit of a When Harry Met Sally Moment, only for parents.
I posted this rather mundane story on the Real Mums Facebook page and asked others for their “YES” moments for the week. Instead of a series of happy moments shared, I got a series of “Well done” and “Can I borrow him?” and a few “How did you do that?”
To be honest, the cooking dinner thing has been going two years or more. Yes, since he was ten. That he called and asked was a bit of a surprise, as he usual only does it with lots of prior warning. He’s had a few weeks off, so it was all a bit up in the air.
So, how did I do it?
It wasn’t that hard really.
- I didn’t have the energy to fight the constant “I don’t want to go”, week in, week out, and for the half hour lead up to leaving for basketball training when I was trying to organise and think about thirteen other things at the time;
- I thought of a brilliant way to get him to come without all the whining and crap in the leadup; I suggested if he wanted to stay home, he cook dinner whilst we were out;
- It backfired; I thought the idea of cooking dinner would be deterrent enough that he would just agree to come along.
To my surprise, he agreed. Almost immediately.
In fact, he was not only open to the idea, but quite excited about it. I’m not sure if it was the actual cooking he was happy about, or the not having to go to basketball that thrilled him.
Either way, I didn’t want to come home and have to prepare dinner for everyone at the time of night I was getting home and I didn’t want to have the same argument with him every week.
He didn’t want to come, and, this way, he had a lot more control and say in what