Freedom of Choice

I don't recall getting many choices when I was a child. My parents made the rules. I got what they gave me and I had to live with it. I didn't have a choice. My how times change.

Last night, I was getting Carter's snack ready for school. I asked if he wanted the Cheez-It crackers or Chicken in a Biscuit ones for today. Hubby pipes in: "I don't recall getting choices like that when I was a kid." And he's right.

We weren't asked: "What do you want for supper?" We were told: "This is what we're having. Sit down and eat it. You can't leave the table until it's gone."

If Mom said she's going to the store, we wouldn't dare say, "I don't want to go. Can I stay home?" We knew we better get our butts in the car.

If Mom or Dad said we're going out to eat, we wouldn't have thought to ask: "Where are we going? I don't want to go there. Can we go here?" Instead, it was such a rare occasion to dine out, we raced to get in the car and go.

When did this generation of negotiators show up? Don't they know that Mom and Dad are still the bosses? Yet they are always working a deal, trying to negotiate something better for themselves.

I admit I am guilty in part of enabling that behavior when it comes to meal time. I'm not sure how it started, but in our house we now have two kinds of meals, according to Carter: Family Meal and Free Meal.

When we have a Family Meal, that means one of us adults actually puts some effort into a real, possibly even balanced, meal like chicken or spaghetti or pork chops. During the meals, we sit at the table together and even say grace. On the nights we lack time or don't feel like putting forth an effort, it's sort of a free-for-all. You get a free choice of what you want, whether that's leftovers or a bowl of cereal (that's often a Mommy and Carter choice since we're too good for leftovers).

The other night Carter wanted a Free Meal. I had plans to make something. That didn't go over well in his world. So we're sitting there eating our delicious food and Mr. Pouty isn't talking so neither are we. All you can hear is forks scraping plates and the occasional sip of milk. When the meal was almost over, I said, "isn't this great to have quality family time together?"

At least Carter cleaned his plate and didn't have to sit there until it was gone. ...Not that I would do that, of course. That's like cruel and unusual punishment, isn't it? I'd probably find some way to bribe him like "finish this and you can do that later." Hmm... Sounds almost like a negotiation. I was wondering how that all got started....