Kind

"You are not kind!"

Linnea said it to me, a few times, last week. She was absolutely right.

So I had a go at being kind. Friday was the first day, and it was hard; I just said "fuck it," (not out loud, I don't want to hear them swear just yet) a lot more than usual and gave up on trying to get them to do anything.

Saturday was easier because they were out. I tidied the whole front room properly, chose extra storage, and talked to them. I had tidied the whole room, and we would get them new storage, and get the Playmobil out of the attic (it was banished there over the summer because it was getting lost and maltreated, in part because they didn't want to store it in the only available space). In return, they would keep things tidy enough that I didn't gouge any more holes in my feet just walking around.

And if I step on something and hurt myself, I bin it. If I step on something and break it, I bin it. In return for this privilege, I remind them kindly when they have left stuff out in our limited floorspace.

Saturday evening, Sunday, and all day today went well in this regard. I'm pretty impressed. The hard and fast rule only applies to the one room I really, really tidied, but it will help me get the rest of the house under control if that one room is.

And they will have more fun playing with their stuff, and I will have more fun not losing my temper.

I've asked a few times, and I am, apparently, getting better at being kind.

I hope it gets easier with practice.