Duncebuckets and boundaries.

Yesterday when we were getting ready to leave the house, Sam called down the stairs to Lucy and I, who were still on our way up.

He said, "Come on, you silly duncebuckets!!"

"Sam, did you just call me a duncebucket?!"

"Oh, um...Of course not Mommy!! I was, uh, only talking to Lucy," he responded.

So secretly, even though I scolded him for calling his mother a duncebucket, I actually thought it was pretty funny. Where on earth did he hear a name like duncebucket?

I'm certain now that he knows duncebucket is not an appropriate substitute for 'Mother dear', it won't happen again. It made me think though, about all the times children try something, not knowing exactly whether or not they'll get away with it, but knowing just the same, they have to try.

It's not willful disobedience... it's simply testing boundaries... discovering what is and isn't acceptable, what will get you in to trouble, and what won't.

I would imagine it's quite a thrill for kids really... the anticipation of throwing out a new word, or new action... perhaps it's the bold attempt of sauntering in to the kitchen to get a fourth spoonful of cookie dough, certain that confidence alone, and their own assertion that four is not too many, will get them that last taste of sweetness without any negative consequence.

When this last example happened in my house, Jordan was the boundary tester. When I stopped, him, spoon just over the bowl, he looked at me and innocently said, "But it's so good!!"

Of course it's good... and duncebucket is a funny name. But there are boundaries in all things. And I, as the parent am responsible for teaching you what those boundaries actually are. Boundaries that will keep your tummy from hurting and will keep you from developing habits of disrespect that may get you in trouble down the road (Can't imagine what would happen if Sam called his high school principle a duncebucket).

I've been thinking a lot lately about the responsibility of parents... it's quite an overwhelming task, really... to raise these little people in to functioning, happy, respectful adults. And sometimes, I feel nowhere near close to measuring up. What if I establish too many boundaries? Or not enough? I think I've decided that happiness lies somewhere in the middle.

Obviously I can't let my five year old get away with saying, "I can't find my damn shoes." But, I think I can allow an extra bite of cookie dough without inflicting too much damage. And maybe I'll tell Jordan when he grows up, he can be just like his Mommy and eat as much cookie dough as he wants.