My daughter's brazen bully/friend's note.

The notebook lay open on the counter. I didn’t recognize Big Girl’s scrawl so I picked it up for a closer look. There, on the page, was the following:

“Bring it tomorrow and you said if you don’t I could punch you thank you good night.”

WTF?!?

I called Big Girl into the kitchen. What was this, I wanted to know. Nervously, she explained that one of the little girls in her class told her to bring a specific toy to school. And if she didn’t, she was going to punch Big Girl.

“First off, don’t let anyone punch you. That is not okay,” I told her. Then I explained that she had to stick up for herself if she could. “You tell her no, it is not going to happen. That friends don’t punch friends for any reason.” (They only whip them with licorice — sorry, inside joke.) But my daughter wasn’t convinced she could do that.

I honestly forgot about it with the activities of yesterday: work, a book club meeting, Little Girl being tipped over in a shopping cart (that’s a whole other blog post). But Big Girl didn’t. It was the first thing she asked me this morning. “Mommy, can I bring the telescope to school because A. says she’s going to punch me if I don’t.” I explained that no, she couldn’t do that. She would get in trouble for bringing toys to school, but more important you can’t just give in to what is essentially a bully’s request. Instead, I told her, I would tell the wanna-be puncher that she wasn’t allowed to bring it to school. I wrote a note:

Dear A.,

We don’t punch our friends! If you want to play with the telescope, come for a playdate.

–Karen (Big Girl’s mom)

Big Girl was thrilled. We headed over to the bus, and I heard that little girl asking my Big Girl if she had brought the item in question. No, my daughter told her. And then she handed her the note.

I know that little girl. I like that little girl. I’m hoping a funny, direct message from someone I hope she knows and likes will drive the point home: We don’t threaten other children. It’s not nice. Still, it will be interesting to see what Big Girl tells me when she gets home.

Did I do the right thing? What would you have done. I am flying by the seat of my pants right now.

Over the Christmas holidays we went to the Long Island Children’s Museum. While we were there, one of my friends ran into one of her old friends. The girl had a 9-month-old and a three-year-old. We started chatting. She asked me how my big girl liked becoming a big sister. She wanted to know, she said, because, “she’s (pointing to her own big girl) is just terrible.” I went through a period just like that, I was about to explain, but she kept talking. “Yes, she’s really not listening, and I don’t know what to do. We tried spanking her, but it doesn’t seem to work…” She was still talking, but I didn’t hear anything past the phrase “we tried spanking her.” I looked down at her daughter, a tiny little thing, and had to will myself not to be judgmental.

Spanking is one of those polarizing topics. Either you do it, or you don’t. There’s no in between. And if you do it, you usually feel very strongly about it. And if you don’t, you probably have a reason.

I grew up with a single mom since my dad died when I was little. She worked a lot. Money was tight. When things got stressful (and they got stressful a lot) and we misbehaved, my mom hit us the same way that my grandmother hit her when she was a little girl. No, we weren’t getting punched or kicked. More like hit with the shoe, hit with the big wooden spoon, hit with the slipper. I can vividly remember being hit with the handset of one of those old-fashioned rotary phones because I was sneaking out of bed to call my cousin. That one hurt a lot. I also got my hair pulled and got smacked. One time, as a teen, my mom was so mad that she picked me up by my hair and banged my head against the wall. But even that wasn’t something that would be considered wrong or bad. There was no stigma attached. It was acceptable, and my mom did it where she thought we needed it — in front of people, on the front lawn, at the store. All the adults in the neighborhood did it. One time my uncle even hit me because I was misbehaving with my cousin.

Me, I can’t do it. I just can’t. I smacked Big Girl’s butt once. I instantly felt like I wanted to die. Here she is, this little, tiny girl. Here I am this big adult. My hand completely covered her behind. She weighed, at the time, a quarter of what I weighed. She wasn’t allowed to hit back. She just had to stand there and take a smack because of something — whatever it was, maybe she didn’t listen, maybe she was fresh? How is that a fair fight? How is that teaching her right from wrong? How is that going to build trust between us? How can I, as a mother, tell her never to let anyone lay a hand on her if I am doing exactly what I am saying is wrong? And how can I tell her not to hit other children if hitting is okay in our house?

I know lots of people say that spanking is a solid disciplinary tool. And that it’s the only thing that kids respond to. Me, I say that’s a load of crap. I’d say those people were taking the easy way out, but I can’t even own that statement because, at least for me, it was one of the most difficult things I’ve ever done. I think, like my mom, a lot of people are acting out of frustration and anger. They lose their temper. And once they do it once, and they see the look of fear in a child’s eye, they think it’s a good idea.

After I smacked Big Girl, I took her in my arms and apologized. I told her that it’s not okay to hit, and that I was wrong and very, very sorry. And that it would never happen again. I told her sometimes grownups make mistakes, too, but that I learned my lesson. Since then we use time outs and taking things away instead of smacks and spanking. It’s working out pretty well. My heart honestly goes out to that woman we met at the Children’s Museum and to any other adult who spanks. I think, if they think about it, it’s actually hurting them as much as it’s hurting their kids.

Let the comments fly. Why am I right? Why am I wrong? How do you feel about the issue.

Spanking is one of those polarizing topics. Either you do it, or you don’t. There’s no in between. And if you do it, you usually feel very strongly about it. And if you don’t, you probably have a reason.

I grew up with a single mom since my dad died when I was little. She worked a lot. Money was tight. When things got stressful (and they got stressful a lot) and we misbehaved, my mom hit us the same way that my grandmother hit her when she was a little girl. No, we weren’t getting punched or kicked. More like hit with the shoe, hit with the big wooden spoon, hit with the slipper. I can vividly remember being hit with the handset of one of those old-fashioned rotary phones because I was sneaking out of bed to call my cousin. That one hurt a lot. I also got my hair pulled and got smacked. One time, as a teen, my mom was so mad that she picked me up by my hair and banged my head against the wall. But even that wasn’t something that would be considered wrong or bad. There was no stigma attached. It was acceptable, and my mom did it where she thought we needed it — in front of people, on the front lawn, at the store. All the adults in the neighborhood did it. One time my uncle even hit me because I was misbehaving with my cousin.

Me, I can’t do it. I just can’t. I smacked Big Girl’s butt once. I instantly felt like I wanted to die. Here she is, this little, tiny girl. Here I am this big adult. My hand completely covered her behind. She weighed, at the time, a quarter of what I weighed. She wasn’t allowed to hit back. She just had to stand there and take a smack because of something — whatever it was, maybe she didn’t listen, maybe she was fresh? How is that a fair fight? How is that teaching her right from wrong? How is that going to build trust between us? How can I, as a mother, tell her never to let anyone lay a hand on her if I am doing exactly what I am saying is wrong? And how can I tell her not to hit other children if hitting is okay in our house?

I know lots of people say that spanking is a solid disciplinary tool. And that it’s the only thing that kids respond to. Me, I say that’s a load of crap. I’d say those people were taking the easy way out, but I can’t even own that statement because, at least for me, it was one of the most difficult things I’ve ever done. I think, like my mom, a lot of people are acting out of frustration and anger. They lose their temper. And once they do it once, and they see the look of fear in a child’s eye, they think it’s a good idea.

After I smacked Big Girl, I took her in my arms and apologized. I told her that it’s not okay to hit, and that I was wrong and very, very sorry. And that it would never happen again. I told her sometimes grownups make mistakes, too, but that I learned my lesson. Since then we use time outs and taking things away instead of smacks and spanking. It’s working out pretty well. My heart honestly goes out to that woman we met at the Children’s Museum and to any other adult who spanks. I think, if they think about it, it’s actually hurting them as much as it’s hurting their kids.

Let the comments fly. Why am I right? Why am I wrong? How do you feel about the issue.

Multiple toys = fewer fights.

As a playdate addict — and survivor — I’ve seen everything and anything that could go wrong at a playdate. From kids who hit to broken toys to crushed Veggie Booty on the floor, I’ve been there, done that. I’ve also amassed a little bit of knowledge when it comes to throwing or participating in a successful playdate. Here are the lessons I’ve learned over the years.

• Make it about them. Yes, it’s great to socialize with your favorite mommies, but eventually your child is going to show a preference for certain kids. Some personalities just mesh better, too. You might love one mom, but her kid drives your kid nuts. As much as it pains you to do it, those are the playdates that should simply fade away.
• Let kids be kids. I’ve been to playdates where the moms set elaborate schedules. Noon to 12:30 we had a snack; 12:30 to 1 we did a craft. 1 to 1:30 the kids played t-ball. 1:30 to 2 we had ice cream sundaes. While it’s nice to plan ahead, it’s actually far better for kids to give them basic toys like blocks, dress-up clothing, and balls, and let them do what they will with those tools. According to one Boston College developmental psychologist and researcher, free play helps kids learn important life skills such as how to compromise, anticipate other people’s needs, and meet their own needs and desires. “To play well,” says researcher Peter Gray, “and to keep others interested in continuing to play with you, you must be able to see the world from the other players’ points of view.” This leads me to my next tip…
• Stay close, but don’t intervene right away. In the beginning, I was right on top of my daughter like a mythical helicopter parent. Now I realize that yes, my kids need me to help them navigate some problems, but it’s probably better to let them try to solve them first. I’ve also learned that as much as it’s nice to sit and talk in the kitchen while kids play in the den, a parent’s presence is often enough to keep the playdate on track. (And when those eyes aren’t there, hair gets cut, dolls faces get drawn on with markers, and both kids can claim they didn’t throw the first punch. Trust me. I know these things.)
• Keep it short(ish). Kids get tired quickly. It’s hard sharing, and even harder dealing with lots of activity. Over the years I’ve interviewed plenty of smart experts and they all seem to agree. When kids are young, playdates should be about as long in hours as your child’s age in years. So if your child is two, stick to a two-hour-or-under event. This is just a guideline, of course. Some kids can play all day, while others get overwhelmed after 45 minutes, so make changes accordingly.
• Set a time limit. I once threw a playdate for a non-Gymboree friend (those girls knew my work schedule, and were always so supportive). After about two hours I was ready for the playdate to end, but the mom didn’t show any signs of leaving. The playdate started at noon, and she stuck around until after 4:30! After that I realized I needed to give a starting and ending time when I extended an invitation. And grow a backbone!
• Put away favorite toys. It took me a while to learn this one. Of course, I wanted all my daughter’s friends to have as much fun with her beloved Ducky as she did, but it made her so angry to have to share it that I soon realized it was better for Ducky to sit on a shelf until everyone went home.
• Set boundaries. When Big Girl got older we started having drop off playdates. Some of those kids were whirling dervishes. By the end of the playdate the playroom looked like a nursery school after a holiday party: everything was strewn around and mixed up. When the moms came to pick up they would smile and leave without offering to help pick up the mess. As a result, I would grumble and gripe and complain, swearing never to have a playdate every again. I was the one at fault, though. I should have gone in and explained what was expected at our house when I heard the Legos starting to fly, or taken the kids outside to our swingset if I couldn’t get the carnage under control. I also should have asked the crazy kid’s mom to lend a hand or at least ask their child to help straighten up before they left. I was too afraid of offending or coming off as a meanie,  though. In retrospect, I deserved all those hours of sorting and putting away.
• Don’t expect everyone to reciprocate. To this day one of the things that drives me nuts is that there are a lot of moms out there who might like you, like your child, like having playdates, but will never return an invitation. I used to take it personally. Now, I just let it slide. You never know what someone has going on in their life. Are there moms out there who are just selfish? Sure, but their kids are probably the ones who need the playdates the most.
• Don’t be afraid to discipline — as long as the other mommy isn’t around. If a dropped off kid smacks your kid in your house, you can absolutely give them a time out. You can also call their mom to come and pick them up. However, if your child gets whacked and the mom is sitting right there — unless you want to risk a fight — you really can’t say much. I’ve been lucky. Almost all my friends have been right on top of their kids. However, in the two instances where we had hitters with lax moms come to play I stuck with, “Hitting isn’t nice,” took the toy in question away (it’s always about a toy), and tried to distract them with a new activity.

How have your playdates gone? Do you have any strategies that work better than others? Please post below to tell us all about them.

One final note: I am so excited to announce our first-ever contest and give away. Green products manufacturer Seventh Generation will be giving one of my readers a huge basket of cleaning products and other items. Look for more details in tomorrow’s Favorite Things Friday column!