Dear Mom never underestimate the chair of woe

Dear Mom never underestimate the chair of woe

When Claire was three she went through a stage where she tested her boundaries. Tried out saying “NO,” that kind of thing. I was, at the same time, trying to teach her responsibility. Put up your toys, clean up your messes, that kind of thing. We came to an impasse one afternoon when she had knocked over a box of crayons and refused to clean them up.

“That’s okay Sweetie, just pick them up and it will be okay.” When a little girl spills something you want to avoid the, “OMG it is a disaster and I need to cry” impulse so I comforted her just in case it took a bad turn. To my surprise she just ignored it. She had one crayon in her hand and that apparently was all she needed. This work of art may end being titled “Blue.”

“You need to pick up your crayons Sweetie.” I was speaking in my sweetest voice and hoping for some acknowledgement. Still nothing.

“Claire, when we make a mess what do we do.” She looked at the mess on the floor and pondered an answer. She chose to go back to coloring as if she had not noticed the dozen or so crayons on the floor.

“Claire, stop right now and jump down there and clean up those crayons. If you are not going to clean up your crayons you will not be able to use them anymore. She sighed at me. Looked again at the crayons and back at me.

So, it was going to be like this, was it?

“Claire, look at me! Do you like coloring?” She nodded her head and grunted. The nod was affirmative, the grunt was a protest. “Do you think little princesses should make messes and not clean them up?” She shook her head and grunted. The head shake was a negative, the grunt was a protest. I waited for moment for this to sink in and motivate her to pick up the crayons. Nothing.

“Claire, if you do not clean up those crayons you are going to sit in the chair of woe!”

“I don’t care!” A response? She finally decided to use words and this is what she responds to? She was looking very defiant. She had her blue crayon clutched in her hand and looking full of herself as if she could do five minutes in the chair of woe standing on her head.

“Okay then, trot your tiny hiny over there and sit in the chair of woe.” Now she listened. Maybe it was my tone at this point. Maybe it was her way of carrying through with her defiance. She set down her crayon and slowly walked over to the chair of woe. She sat down with her hands at her side and smiled at me as if it was just a game. I started the little timer by the chair. It was set to 5 minutes.

The chair of woe was a designation given to a chair in our living room that sat against the wall and looked out into the room. It was sitting on the same wall as the TV. When sitting in the Chair of Woe, you could see everyone and everyone could see you, but you could not see what everyone else was watching on TV. The name came from Conan the Barbarian when Fulsa Doom says to Conan, “Contemplate this on the tree of woe. Crucify him!” James Earl Jones played Doom in the movie and it was pretty intimidating. Conan was then crucified on the tree of woe. He was rescued of course, “But that is another story.”

I watched her sit defiantly in the Chair of Woe. She refused to look sorry or sad, but I was fairly confident such a facade could not be sustained for long. At about 90 seconds into her five minute sentence she started to crack. It started slowly at first. The corners of her mouth started to turn down, she slumped her shoulders a bit. She pulled her arms up and crossed them as if to hold herself together. She started to sniffle a bit, she was about to crack completely.

“If you start to cry we have to start the timer over.” I sat in the big chair with a straight face. Just a little bit of disappointment on it. But I stared at her. I was not sure if mentioning the crying was a good idea. Maybe there was a little bit of me that thought if I upped the challenge she would find some reserve to hold out for the full five minutes. But really this entire exercise would only work if she broke down.

She broke into a cry. Tears instantly fell down her cheeks and she could not keep from crying out. I let this go for about 15 seconds. “Do you want me to start the timer over?” She pulled it together just enough to stifle the audible part of her crying and receded into the back of the chair. Gone was the defiant princess who would not be troubled with cleaning up her own messes. She was just a little girl in trouble with her daddy now.

The timer sounded and I walked over to turn it off. “Give me a hug.” I said and she launched herself into my arms. I held her close as I did every time she was sentenced to the chair of woe. “I love you, but you have to learn to clean up after your messes, okay?” She nodded yes. “Now lets sit down here and clean up our crayons, okay?” I sat down by the spilled crayons and without letting go of me she leaned over and started picking them up. She picked up three of them with her free hand. I held up the box and she stuffed them inside, then reached for more. There was part of me that wanted her to have to clean them up without me right there, but there was a bigger part of me that wanted to let her off the hook. After all she did her time. I gave her a choice, “clean up the crayons or sit in the chair of woe.” I did not say, “Or sit in the chair of woe and then clean up your crayons anyway.” It somehow seemed a little unfair.

This was best, I did not want her to learn she could get out doing something with a five minute stint in the Chair of Woe.

We moved back into the big chair and colored some more. This time with more colors. As she often did after a good cry at that age, she soon fell asleep. As I held her in her in my arms I reminded myself these little exercises would help her listen and remember important rules, like look both ways before you cross the street, and just say no! But it was little consolation. I rarely use the Chair of Woe, usually just the threat is enough to put her straight. I know there will come a time when punishment is not a motivator. I am hoping at that moment I have my bluff in strong enough that a sense of doing the right thing and not disappointing her Daddy will be enough to sustain her. Until then, we have the chair of woe.

Love Mike