How to Not Spoil a Child

Just Enough.

Eat when hungry; sleep when tired.

— Zen notions/sayings

I am wondering what it means to spoil a child. By which I mean to say, I am wondering how a parent encourages a child to be uncreative, demanding, self-centered, and disruptive. I am wondering how a child comes to insist on being the center of adult attention, how a child learns to whine and agitate until parents give in. A spoiled child eventually secures the candy the parents would rather not see her eat. A spoiled child pounds up and down the hallways and wreaks havoc on adult attempts at civilized discourse. A spoiled child cannot play quietly on his own.

How do we get there from here? Or better yet, how do we NOT get there, when “here” is a charming infant with an excess of social savvy? The quotes above speak to this, I think. You do what it necessary. You do not overdo things. In order to respond appropriately in such a way, you must pay attention to the child. What was right today may not be right tomorrow.

The baby has been sick, and he seems to be in pain. He farts. Sometimes he writhes and cries, presumably because his guts are in a knot. He cries at bedtime, looking urgently at the door. He quiets at the mention of papa and will sleep only when his father is called in to lie near us on the bed. Even then, he is slow to fall asleep, drifts off only if there is a nipple in his mouth, and often wakes if it is removed. The more distressed he is, the more likely he will be able to sleep only with the breast's soothing comfort at hand. Last night, he sucked for hours as he slept.

Is that spoiling? Am I creating a monster? Or am I meeting my child’s needs, which are unusually great during this period of illness? Are papa and I being wound around the tiny fingers of our tiny little boy? Are we reasonable? Or are we being had?

When we go for walks, the baby really likes to stop and look at things. He will twist around, give a little shout, and practically fall out of the carrier when he sees something he likes. The slightest sound of running water is a huge draw. I can tell you about fountains and waterfalls in every crook and cranny of our neighborhood. Is it wrong to let him examine things like this? Even if it takes us twenty minutes to get to the end of the block?

Frequently during these days of illness, as I hold the baby, I find that I do not want to put him down. Some great tenderness inside me knows, before I ever try to disengage the nipple, that the little guy needs extra comforting. When I lay aside my desire to lay him down, to rehydrate (all that nursing dries a lady out!) or write or make some calls, and just hold my son, a great peace comes over us both. It feels as if we are in exactly the right place, doing exactly the right thing.

Similarly, after taking 45 minutes to walk to the pharmacy by way of some of NW Portland’s finer little fountains, I found myself in a magic state of quiet joy that normally only comes with the later days of sesshin. Joining the baby in his fountain-gazing, I have become more fully human. By allowing him to explore quietly, as he needs to, we both receive a gift of wonder.

I have been reading about Montessori philosophy, mostly in the Michael Olaf catalog and Paula Polk Lilliard's excellent book Montessori from the Start. What I find there confirms my intuition. The child tells you what he needs. He needs extra holding and extra comfort when he’s sick or teething. He needs to experience the world. Montessori folks advocate letting a baby nurse until he’s done (whenever that is!), and letting a child take all the time he needs to observe the world.

But what about spoiling? Where do I even get that idea, that you can indulge a child so as to create a hellion? It’s certainly easy enough to tell when other parents are being manipulated. But can you see it when you are the one being played for a fool? I don’t know, but I suspect that parents know when they are being had. And I suspect that my concern about being manipulated--by a small and sick baby--says more about me than about my son.

I know ill-mannered children do exist, but I don’t think they come about because parents are attentive and truly kind to them. An indulgent parent is operating based on some notion of herself. When I was a kid, a lot of hippie parents were interested in being “mellow”, or “unrestrictive”, which translated into paying very little attention to the children, and not seeming to care that the children clamored for attention.

Bratty behavior I’ve seen recently has turned out to be tied back to troubles in the home. When parents are stressed, kids are stressed, and they can’t begin to comprehend what’s wrong, and they can’t begin to solve the issues that plague their parents. Uncertain of what to do or where to stand, they act up, hoping for some attention, some certainty, some guidance.

The adult teachers in Montessori are called “guides”, and I’m thinking that’s what parents should be too. Guides. People providing guidance for the natural unfolding of a child’s psychosocial and intellectual development. To properly guide, you need to pay attention without strangling, and you need to provide direction without dictating. Like a gardener, you give the plants what they need, not what you think they need. You neither overwater, nor overprune, but neither do you fail to thin fruit.

When I hold my son, and my mind drifts to wondering if I’m overly permissive, I realize I have notions about discipline which are really just that, notions. They may become relevant one day, but they certainly are not relevant now.

I am certainly babying my son, but he is a baby: he ought to be babied. He needs to suck, to bond, to have his loved ones near him. If it’s no trouble to our family, if it’s no disruption, then why not have papa come lie with us for a few nights at bedtime? If it’s no trouble, if we don’t have to get there any time except eventually, what does it matter if we stop to look at trees and dogs and delivery guys? It does no harm, it abuses no priorities.

What I have seen over the past few days, since I consciously chose to honor my son’s unspoken requests as well as I reasonably could, is that he has changed. He is calmer, and seems more satisfied with life. Even though he’s sick, he’s taken to laughing with joy at the strangest things. He is delighted, with no sense of urgency. There’s no feeling of not having enough, of needing more. He has it all, and he’s rounded-out and fulfilled. I am beginning to see that babying the sick baby and stopping to smell the roses actually matter greatly.

When wondering about spoiling, maybe the key is to look at the outcome. If a particular parenting choice results in a spoiled-acting child, whatever you were doing was spoiling. If it results in a balanced, satisfied kid, whatever you did was not spoiling. Children are trainable, and as parents we are in charge. What kind of child do we want to raise?