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Negotiations

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Christopher (left) Champ and Nico. Celebrating C's 7th birthday.


September 14, 2016

Negotiating with my sons is something I vowed not to do. I am their father, and they shall do as I say. That's a bible verse, I think? That kind of thinking is always great in jest. Still, the reality of the situation may dictate that I directly negotiate with them to devise a good compromise.


I know what you're thinking. "No good parent should negotiate with their kids," I promise you if you don't judge me, I won't judge you for not admitting to other parents that there was a time you negotiated with your kids to have a little peace. Or negotiated so you could finish your favorite television show. You could negotiate to get them off the floor of some unknown department store where the little guy or girl is causing a ruckus.  So you do everything in your power to be nice and negotiate with the little tyke because you don't want to be seen yoking your kid off the ground!

"Son, listen to me, we must go past the ice cream shop. Get off the ground, and I'll get ice cream. You like ice cream," I said, gritting my teeth so hard that I'm surprised they didn't break.

“Nope, dad. I hate ice cream.” Waa waa waa waa waa

Ignore the crying, Chris. Ignore the people looking at you; just look directly at your beautiful child kicking and screaming on the ground. Make him sweat. Get back into the negotiation.

"Okay, get off the ground, and we will stop at McDonald's. No Happy Meal. Shakes only."

“Nope it’s still ice cream.” Waaa waa waa waa

"Technically, it's a beverage, not an ice cream," I said.

He paused his crying for a moment. The word beverage threw him out of his negotiation process.

"Do you need to ask someone what beverage means, or do you trust me?"

"I trust you, daddy."

"It's a drink, not really ice cream. Maybe a thick drink made of ice cream."

“It’s still ice cream, dad!” waa waa waa

The negotiations aren't working, so I will try the old "I'm leaving now. Go ahead and roll around there all you want. I'll come back and get you later."

This should work. Good old reverse psychology. I walked around the corner and stopped suddenly. I peered behind me, hoping the sight of me disappearing from his sight would thrust him into action, and he would sprint horridly towards me.

The little guy didn't budge.

I'll wait him out – I thought to myself. I raised my arm to look at my watch and counted the time away. "30 seconds," now that ought to do it!"

I looked over, and he was gone. He wasn't running towards me. He wasn't calling my name. There was no frantic searching for me; thus, I began my frantic search for him.

I looked around the general area. I finally looked at him, standing by the ice cream store, pointing at flavors and deciding what he wanted.

"None of those negotiation tactics worked, huh?"

"The negotiations were okay, "he said, slowly enunciating the words.  "But during negotiation, you have to make them sweat, Dad. Let's have some ice cream and have a truce."


It's not ideal to negotiate with kids. The boys must do what I say. I think that's in the bible. And if it isn't, I can negotiate a compromise before Armageddon happens.



The boys and I are taking some photos on C's 7th birthday morning,




568 words

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