A bit of background. The kids where trying to figure out a way to stay at the bottom of the pool. The buckets were filled with rocks and the person holding them would sink to the bottom and could walk around. It worked. What also worked was having someone sit on the bucket while someone’s head was in it, that also allowed you stay at the bottom of the pool, whether you wanted to or not. As a mother, I thought it was a bad idea, sitting on someone’s head while they are underwater. So I prohibited the activity. Hence the above abuse and lack of respect. Although it is kind of funny.
Sometimes I cant believe the things my kids say to me. Actually, if I thought about it, I also cant believe some of the things I say to my kids. And when I compare it with the way I was raised, or the way I remember it, there is quite a bit of difference.
While I prefer historical fiction, on occasion, I will venture into books or articles about raising kids. Much of what I have read , discourages comparing your relationship with your child with the one you had with your parents. Especially if your kids are internet/media children. I am much more casual, intimate, and honest with my children than what I remember as a child. I am from Northern California, so my upbringing wasn’t uptight by any means, but there was probably less honestly about the hard realities of life. I think my parents tried to not complicate our lives with some of the tough stuff when we were little. We were more protected. And for sure it was less of a democracy in my house growing up when it came to deciding what the family was going to do.
And what do I expect when I challenge my children with sarcasm. The damage is done, the die cast, I have a bunch of smart-alecks for children. Good or bad, better or worse? Who knows, but I do try to find a little of joy or get a laugh out of my kids everyday. Most days they oblige.