Sh*t Happens.

Being a modern parent is hard, especially when trying to come up with not only punishments but fair punishments as with everything in life – there is consequences. So this week when we stumbled (accidently) on a new cause and effect tactic – we were really pleased with ourselves.

This is for two reasons –  as the children get older (we have man children – teenagers) it is more difficult to find appropriately horrid things to use to ‘teach the lesson of you shouldn’t of done that’ and then the said (accidental) punishment is actually hilarious to watch…
We have three man children living at home 
(19 -14 years) and they are all manly and seemingly untouchable on the emotional effect scale. Washing all nagging, advice and verbal tellings off their backs – not that they are always in trouble mind – they are generally nice lads. Indeed the normal mistermeaners we come across are such things as ; potty mouth on the Xbox, not tidying their rooms, arguing black is white and attitude (because it’s all hormones at this age.)

The incident and accidental punishment in question happened yesterday. As I decided to thoroughly clean the house in preparation of going back to work. The offense – attitude. The result – more jobs until attitude gave up. However, in desperation (as they completed every task with a sarcastic smile) I crossly spat out “go and pick poo out of the garden then”…
I saw the weakness straight away – in thier eyes – the horror. I was on to something here!  Now I would never ask small children to do this task – I mean come on mine are 19, 16 and 14 and it was their first time. I would also like to point out there is not normally masses of poo about to justify this punishment on a regular basis but we have been ill most of the week this week, meaning a) the dogs had not been out for many walks and b) we had not felt well enough to poo pick yet.
We started with a demonstration for the man children – even giving them the good bags – you know the thick, strong ones. We even equip them with suitable footwear – socks and crocs  (as they feint illness) and we banished them to the garden. It was the best thirty minutes of my life, warm coffee in my hand, leaning on the kitchen bench, watching them. Watching them process the horror and choosing an attitude to help them overcome it…
Youngest son chose full on attitude – the I don’t care, I’m tough one and went about all manly – laughing at this brothers.
Middle youngest son just couldn’t get past the horror, wretching and double bagging, trying to build himself up, using the adrenaline, ready for the pick up. Then spending ten minutes checking his nails and shoes – just incase anything had contaminated him.
Middle oldest – managed to find some ironing that just had to be done straight away. We made sure some poop was left though just for him. His tact – to be all grown up, throwing statements out like it’s only poo – I don’t care (as his face got paler by the minute.
It’s funny though isn’t it that we know our dogs so well, we know whose poop is whose. The boys were traumatised by this – as I shouted pick Willies up first – they’re the dinosaur size ones , watch out for Rosies they are toxic. Maggie’s are the rabbit ones – yeah pick up all the bits.
And now…
We have to perfect preventive to unwanted attitudes;
Pack that in or you can poo pick.
Is that attitude – do you want to go in the garden with the poop?
Stop giving me s**t or I will give you some…
The retorts are endless but in the end I’m sure it will be one a one word command
– a point of the finger, followed by the word s**t.

I love being a modern parent …

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