Bad Parent: Tough Luck, Kid
Why I never let my four-year-old win at games.
by Alyssa Giacobbe
April 16, 2009
But it's not like I take my position cavalierly, or solely as a chance to clear the smug little grin from Noah's face whenever he tries to put me in my place by declaring victory, actual or not. I think competition is important. Throwing the game in the
kid's favor is not a healthy way for him to learn about relating and playing well with others, and I'm not just talking about with me. As a child of divorce, Noah has suffered, sure. And with me in the picture, he's getting less attention from his father than
he'd get if I weren't. But, I'd argue, indulging him in constant positivity now will hurt him even more in the long run. Already, Noah is a kid who gets his way more often than not, and I understand why his divorced parents might each be inclined to overcompensate.
That's where I come in.
Growing up, I remember playing heated games of cards in my grandparents' kitchen. My car dealer grandfather, the consummate salesman, wasn't the sort to let a little pigtailed six-year-old get in the way of a win. "Dad," my mother used to scold.
"Giacobbes play for blood!" he'd spit back, then wink, and we'd start up again — me, more determined than ever to beat my grandfather's ass at Uno, like the little Italian warrior I was — or, at least, wanted to be. Victory earned, I came to figure, is far
better and longer-lasting than victory handed over; a little edge never hurt anyone; hard work pays off, etc. I know that, on some level at least, Noah's getting this. After all, no matter how many times he loses, he always comes back for another game.
If I've learned one thing from living with a toddler it's that they're smarter than they let on.
I realize that I could be reinforcing Noah's perception of me as the competition; by never letting him win, I'm always the one to beat. And while I certainly don't want to set myself up as the evil stepmonster, I'm also reluctant to have Noah view me as
some kiss-ass lady who's playing nice in order to get cozy with his daddy. If I've learned one thing from living with a toddler it's that they're smarter than they let on. They know when you've thrown them the win, just as they can sense when you want them
to like you. Neither does anything for their sense of self or their respect for the adult (especially if that respect is already tenuous).
When Noah wins on his own, however — and sometimes he does — it's that much better. We celebrate. We high five. I encourage him to tell his father how severely he beat me. "I beat Alyssa, Daddy, I beat her!" he'll say, doing that four-year-old dance of his,
and for a moment I'll be sad for this little boy who so desperately wants to show up the better in his father's eyes. Of course, he always will. I know that, even if he doesn't. And that's a victory I'll always let him have.
©2009 Alyssa Giacobbe and Babble
About the Author
|
|
Related Articles
|
|
Alyssa Giacobbe regularly writes for publications including Teen Vogue, Boston magazine, Self, Body + Soul, and In Style. She lives in Boston with a full-time cat and part-time four-year-old.
|
|
|
-
by Shelley Abreu
I hate playing with my kids.
-
by Keri Fisher
I forced my kid to play soccer.
-
by Lisa Selin Davis
Learning to play house.
|
