The Precious turned three this week.  In a fashion typical of our family, he had two birthday parties.  The first as a quiet little family event with about a dozen people…mostly adults.  The second was a pool party (at our house) with eight kids ranging from six to two (almost three).

Now before I go further let me say The Precious is sick.  He is recovering from an ear infection.  His allergies are giving him fits, and as if those things weren’t enough, he also has hand, foot, and mouth disease.  That presents as tiny little blisters in the back of his throat.  He had this once before, but it presented as blisters on his hands and throat.  It apparently begins as a fever, feeling lethargic, and then the blisters.  Needless to say, he wasn’t feeling well.

We live in Arkansas.  A typical Arkansas summer has temperatures in the nineties with 90% humidity.  Saturday was no exception.  The children were seriously doused with sunscreen, placed in their life vests and floaties and plopped in the water.  They paddled around like little top  buoyant dolphins.  There was a slip and slide for them to bust their tiny little butts on.  And, a “bouncy thingy” was blown up and ready to go.  It was kid heaven.

The adults, on the other hand, were dying.  The mommies and grandmas were watching the little ones.  Occasionally they would get in the water, but their could be no conversation with other adults while they were in the pool.  Children in pools demand 100% of your attention.  They will climb you as if you are ladder.  They splash you.  They want you to throw a ball for them to catch while they jump off of the diving board.  It is crucial that you time the throw just right, because any missed catches will be blamed on you.  It is also imperative that you respond to the constant cries of, “watch me!” 

The party was from 1:00 to 3:00 pm.  This had me concerned, because of it falling in the middle of nap time.  I wasn’t as concerned that children would be sleepy as I was that they would be cranky.  I needn’t have worried.  The only crankiness came when parents announced that it was time to get out of the pool.  Children who hate taking baths will scream to stay in a pool.  Now remember dear ones, the Precious doesn’t feel well.  On the best of days he doesn’t like sharing.  His toys are his and only he can decide who plays with them.  It is also important to remember that all the toys are his.   As an example…a few days ago he invited his BFF who lives 2 houses down the block to swim with him.  The kiddos were playing in the pool with water guns.  These are water guns from last year, and one worked pretty well and the other hardly at all.   His friend wanted the gun The Precious had, because it was the better gun.  The Precious knew this and was guarding the gun with his life.  As soon as The Precious put the gun down his friend jumped on it like a duck on a June bug.  This did not go over well.  Once the friend put the gun down The Precious performed the June bug manouver and grabbed the gun.  The Precious came to me and asked if he could go inside.  Thinking he probably needed juice or to go to the bathroom, I got up and opened the door.  He went inside and promptly hid the good gun under a beach towel and announced, “I’m through.”

So, here are all these kids and they are playing with his toys…and his mommy and Emmy.  Many times we looked around and found him inside (with all the daddies and Boppy).  He barely got into the water.  His little cheeks were beet red, and he was very sweaty.  He did show up for presents…although his friends wanted to play with his new things and that wasn’t cool.  He also blew out his candles, but he didn’t eat much cake.  He just felt crummy. You could just tell that probably what he needed was air conditioning and a nap.  I know that’s what I needed.  Yet when his mommy said it was time to go, he gave her the usual fuss.

Now, I have written all of this to make this point.  I don’t think kids really care so much whether they go or not.  I think it’s about the fuss.  They knew coming in that at some point they would leave.  Yet each and every well-behaved little munchkin was upset when it was time to leave.  I think they are testing the waters.  I think they know they will have to leave, but if they can set that back for 10, 15, or even 30 minutes, they win.  Little kids don’t get to win much.  Their parents get to win a lot.  So any small victory is a huge win to them.  I understand this.  I don’t get to win a lot either.  I get really excited when I get to put a W in the results column.  Who doesn’t?  And this is what sets grandparents apart from parents.  We let them win.  A discussion about whether or not  he can have a cookie before dinner results in a cookie before dinner.  “I need a new ______”, results in a trip to which ever store can provide the necessary item.  In theory, this can continue until the child can provide for himself.  It’s a pretty sweet deal…for the kids…and the grandparents (because they come off looking like heroes), but the parents are always the villains.  So my advice to parents is this: let them win occasionally.  Pick your battles.  If an extra 10 minutes has you as the hero instead of the villain, isn’t it worth it? 

Maybe I’m just old and tired.  Actually, there is no maybe about it.  But I just don’t have the fight in me anymore.  It’s easier just to give him the win.  If it’s not illegal.  If it’s not immoral.  If it’..s not going to result in death…just give in.  I tell my kids all the time, “give him what he wants and he won’t cry.”  It’s sound advice.  It has always worked for me!