"No means No": Making the Right Choice

Stand my ground, or change my mind? This comes up often when you're a parent! We believe in consistency and "No means no" unless it turns out we made a decision mistakenly. But I have a little tale from this weekend that illustrates being a bit flexible with that.

Saturday was our town's annual Chocolate Festival. Right up front, the festival itself ended up being a semi-bust for us, due to the fact that (we now know) a local restaurant cannot get it together for an event for which they have an entire year's advance notice. We "popped in" to grab lunch before filling the kids up with chocolate, but got stuck there so painfully long that most of the local shops had run out of their chocolate goodies by the time we finally hit the festival area. Booooo. That restaurant lost our business.

Anyway, we were wandering up the street, taking note of all the "Sold Out" festival signs on store windows, and as we approached the little local toy store, the Husband impulsively said, "let's go in". Fatal error: both of us failed to announce our usual disclaimer to the kids that we are not buying anything, we are only looking, okay? The kids love window shopping and don't throw tantrums, so the disclaimer works great ;)

The kiddos were happily checking out a play kitchen when Little Man spotted a plush chicken sitting on top of it. Of all things, a mottled black and white hen, named (drumroll....) Henley. Henley the Hen was quite expensive, and (groan) a stuffed animal (raise your hand if you've donated bagfuls of neglected stuffed animals), but--Little Man promptly fell in love. He tucked Henley under his arm and cradled her just like he does with our live chickens, and proceeded to companionably carry her around the shop, radiating pure delight over this most absolutely wonderful toy.

He truly exemplifies childish innocence. There is not a manipulative bone in that little guy's body (I am convinced that when they were being formed in the womb, Pixie took his).

I was keeping an eye on Little Man while the Husband followed Pixie. Due to her voluble chatter, the Husband did not observe Little Man's conviction that he was getting to pick out a toy today--and assuming that we WERE going to buy toys, I failed to correct Little Man. All those misconceptions collided when the Husband announced that it was time to go, spotted Henley under Little Man's arm, and said "(Little Man), put the chicken up."

Little Man froze in confusion. "But...I can buy it?"

"Put the chicken up, we aren't going to buy toys today. Come on!" (gesturing toward the play kitchen)

Well, now I was stuck. I'd been about to intervene and vote in favor of buying an overpriced plush chicken, but now that would be undermining my spouse in front of the kids, so I bit my tongue.

Little Man made a last ditch effort, sweetly: "Daddy, can I please buy the chicken?"

He has the biggest, most beautiful velvety brown eyes, and filled with hope as they were, I don't know how the Husband withstood them; but with an obvious effort he held to the law he'd laid down and said "We already have live chickens at home. Now put it away so we can go."

I don't believe I've ever seen happiness so palpably drain from a body, to be silently replaced by disappointed dejection. Little Man's lip crumpled and quivered, and the previously joyful light in his eyes was drowned in tears as he obediently put away the chicken, and then pitifully turned to me for comfort as he began to quietly sob. I picked him up and he clung to me as I hugged him and battled conflicting emotions. On the one hand I felt like the most heartless mother on the planet, and on the other I agreed with the Husband that we really did not need to acquire more stuffed animals (though I had already resolved to look Henley up on Amazon, so I guess I'm not entirely a very good supportive spouse).

Outside the shop he held tightly to my hand as we walked down the street, tears continuing to flow. The Husband, glancing back as Little Man stumbled, looked at me and stopped. He probably saw plainly in my face that I wanted to go get that dang chicken.

"He never asks for anything," said the Husband thoughtfully.

"Very true!" I agreed.

"Do you want to take him back there?"

"YES!"

I turned Little Man around and retraced our steps. As we got to the toy store doorway he asked "why are we going back here, Mommy?"

"Do you want to get the chicken?" I half whispered, with a smile.

Realization dawned in his eyes, and then joy flooded his face again as he breathlessly exclaimed "YES!!" As he literally jumped for joy through the store toward the chicken, to snatch it up and squeeze it tight in a huge hug, the cashier said "Awwwww!" (Made me wonder how much drama she gets to see each day!)

And that is how we did not hold to our word on something! Softer hearted parents would say we were mean for saying No to begin with, and firmer parents would say we set a bad precedent. Oh well. Generally I think "No means No" is good policy and sure, Little Man would've gotten over it and life would have gone on if we'd stuck to it...but instinctively I feel that giving in, for a change, was the right thing to do this time :) Once home, Henley promptly replaced "Tee-ger" the stuffed cat as Little Man's bedtime companion, and both kids happily played with her all the rest of the weekend.

My own photo of Little Man snoozing with his new pal