helping grandparents with discipline

(More gems from our photo session with the talented Emily Rumsey) I hurried downstairs after my bath tonight (sore bum from tripping on our freshly and now padded! carpet! padded! basements steps needed a little soak) upon hearing my oldest (5.5) shouting I WON’T and the tell-tale escapee foot-falls. And I had a good idea to whom that punctuated tone was directed. My saintly father who agreed to watch the kids while I bathed. Their “Baba.” The most hands-on Grandfather I could ever dream of. The child whisperer who can whisk three kids out to a riveting and rivalrous game of bocce ball with the neighbor afternoon after afternoon, week after week, and still win while holding the baby in the carrier. The man who reads Tintin in funny voices. The man who rinses cloth diaper poopies out for me with the same frequency with which those diapers are pooped. Maybe your kids don’t see their grandparents enough to be, well, kids, in front of them, or at them. Or maybe they’re not close enough to the grandparent to get to that level of rudeness. We’re lucky enough to have my parents living with us half-time, so those occasions for kids to, well, be kids, arise on a naturally frequent basis. Staring my son down from his hideout on the library couch and firmly guiding him back to the kitchen where the injured party remained with the tot, he knew I meant business. Shouting at his grandfather: never okay. This approach has worked with my kids and…