The Silent Treatment

Of course, as soon as I wrote about how much I had to say, I came up completely blank on interesting things to write about. All day I thought about it…through tantrums and nap rejection and Julianna’s lack of cooperation in speech therapy, through my own very bad mood (it’s hormones, all the more powerful for sixteen months’ absence, but I’m not supposed to use that as an excuse)…

And then, as I was turning meatballs in the oil, I found my topic. It walked down the stairs in the form of a sour-faced preschooler, fresh from exile in his room for screaming when he didn’t get his way. With all the noise of Nicholas fussing and Julianna banging pots and spitting oil, the only reason I knew he had passed through was that I happened to be turned that direction when he slid around the corner into the living room and vanished again. “Alex?” I said.

Dead silence. Oh yes, I thought, now this I recognize: The Silent Treatment. The I-am-mad-at-you-and-I’m-going-to-wait-for-you-to-ask-me-why-so-I-can-bite-your-head-off silent treatment. I recognize it because watching him is like looking in a mirror. Ouch.

No wonder it doesn’t work on Christian! Who has time for that kind of passive aggressive behavior? I had two separate meals to prepare before Nicholas’s whimpers escalated to Feed Me screams. A table to set. Children to entertain. Leaves for tomorrow’s craft project to cover before they dry and curl into uselessness. Silent treatment? More power to you, Alex. One less demand on my fractured attention.

Unlike me, however, Alex doesn’t hold grudges. Two hours later, I sit on the bench in the hot steaming pool building for his last swim lesson of the year. He’s doing well tonight, and every time he swims to the table in the center of the pool, he turns and looks to make sure I’m paying attention before he starts back. He smiles. He arrives back at the steps and turns to me. “Mommy, did you see that? Did you watch me?”

There are several lessons in this, but I’m sure you can see them as clearly as I can…I’m uncomfortable enough already without spelling it out THAT clearly.