I don’t want to boast, but I’m convinced my kids are gearing up for careers in journalism. How can I tell? They have an insatiable urge to report every trivial detail. They scramble over one another, desperate to be the first to share their latest scoop, as if I’m hanging on their every word. It’s a chaotic scene of shoving and shouting as they compete to deliver their news.
However, if they’re aiming for a future in reporting, they could use some guidance — specifically, not everything is worth sharing. Sure, I need to hear about significant events, like “Someone is coloring on the wall with your lipstick!” or “There’s a medical emergency!” But the minor grievances, such as “He said I have too much hair,” or “He tried to dip his toe in my cereal,” really push my buttons.
To make matters worse, these exaggerated complaints are often delivered in a tone reminiscent of a buzzing mosquito having a meltdown. I can always anticipate the incoming drama from the telltale “Mom-meeeeeee?” that climbs in pitch. And then the accusations start: “He said I look weird!” “He called me ‘orange!’” “He said my underwear looks like it belongs to Big Bird!”
I want my kids to feel heard and to know they can approach me with important matters (emphasis on important). But how do I convey that some things deserve my attention while others need to be dismissed? It’s a challenging conundrum, similar to telling kids, “Never take candy from strangers, except on Halloween.” It’s difficult for them to discern what’s significant when they think that someone commenting on their breath smelling like oatmeal is a crisis that warrants immediate attention.
Mostly, I choose to ignore the frivolous tattles, since reacting to them only reinforces this behavior. For instance, just the other day, one of my children complained, “My brother called me a stink face!”
I responded, “Well, are you a stink face?”
He pondered for a moment, “No.”
“Then it’s irrelevant. Now go play.”
My guideline is simple: if no one is bleeding or physically harming someone else, their tattles are met with indifference or a casual dismissal. I absolutely want to know if one of my children is attempting to leap from the top bunk, but if the main issue is that “he said I’m shaped like a banana,” they can handle that on their own.
I see it as a valuable lesson in conflict resolution.
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In summary, while my kids are eager to share their tales, I’ve learned that not every story deserves the spotlight. By encouraging them to discern the importance of the matters they bring to me, I’m fostering their problem-solving skills and promoting a more peaceful home environment.