A brief conversation in the car today:
Me: I don't know why, but for some reason grusome threats work with kids. They believe them less the more grusome they get, but they listen a lot more.
My mom: Yeah, I remember when you were little, I used to threaten to boil you in oil or hang you from the fire escape by your toes.
#2 Offspring: Do it, Nana!
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A conversation yesterday as we were running home to get the elder Free-Ride offspring ready for a soccer practice:
Dr. Free-Ride: Do you want to change out of your "picture day" clothes before practice?
Elder offspring: Nah, I'm good. I'll just change into shin guards, soccer socks, and cleats.
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This week, the bath-night conversation turned to energy. If you prefer to listen to the sprogs, what with the splishing of the bathwater and their American accents, you can download the audio file. (Actually, owing to the length of the conversation, this week it's just me and the younger Free-…
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This week, we finally get to the elder Free-Ride offspring's part of last-week's bath-night conversation about energy. Here's the audio of the discussion, complete with splashing bathwater and odd squawks from my computer.
For those who prefer words on the screen, the transcript is below.
Dr.…
For sixteen years I told my kids that when they turned sixteen they were out the door to fend for themselves. My daughter took me at my word and left a month or two ago... Sigh. Be careful what you threaten them with. It may habituate them.
My grandfather's threat to my mom, which she passed down to us was "...or I'll rip off your arm and beat you over the head with the bloody end of it." It wasn't ever followed through with, but it did make us stop and think.
My college roommate's mother used to tell him (upon due provocation) that she was going to grab him by his ankles and smash his brains out against the wall -- since he wasn't using them anyway. He would then give himself an emergency time out by hiding in the back of the closet for a while.
It's my understanding that his mother never actually swung him around by his ankles.
My own mother had a milder threat, something along the lines of "If you don't behave, I'm going to sell you pretty cheap!"
The smart-mouth reply "So who's going to buy us?" elicited her riposte of "That's why it has to be cheap!"
Ah, fond memories...
I regularly threaten to sell my boys to a passing sea captain for their own version of "Two Years Before the Mast." Since I'm prone to making truly outrageous statements, though, they don't seem to take me very seriously.