“Oh, oh! I almost forgot! He sleeps with a diaper.”
“Most babies do.”
“No, no, I mean he sleeps with it. He cuddles it.”
“What?”
“Yeah, I know, it’s crazy. He used to have this little blue blanky that grandma made him, but one night his diaper came loose and the Velcro strap got attached to the blanky. By morning he was cuddling up to the wet diaper. We thought it was funny. We even took a picture of it. But the next night he pushed his blanky away and was cuddling his diaper again. (What a mess that was.) So now we just, you know, put him to bed with a wet diaper to cuddle.”
“Wet?”
“Yeah, that’s the worst part. He got used to the diaper being wet. So we just run it under the water for a few seconds, let it soak in, then just, you know, let him have it. It’s the only way he’ll go to sleep at night. Poor little guy. If he doesn’t have his wet diaper he’ll just scream and holler all night.”
* * *
Okay, so this may seem a bit extreme. But it does illustrate an important lesson I learned very early on in this long haul journey called parenthood: my kids will expect whatever I condition them to expect. If I keep the house absolutely quiet when baby’s napping, baby will require absolute silence to nap. If I rock baby in the rocking chair and sing Amazing Grace to get her to sleep at night, I better get used to rocking and singing, because that’s what baby will expect. If I run into baby’s room every time I hear my toddler call my name, he’s going to expect me to come running. And when I delay, he’ll let me hear about it. If I give my son or daughter T.V. time whenever they do their chores, that “privilege” quickly becomes the status quo—an entitlement that better be kept. And, yes, I suppose if you get your infant used to cuddling a wet Pamper, you’d better double your diaper budget!
Though I’m sure parenting books address this issue, my wife and I learned this one on our own. And we put this principle of kid conditioning to good use in several ways.
First, we decided early on that we’d keep household noise at normal levels when the kids slept. Rather than tip-toeing around and whispering, we talked, laughed, worked, and watched T.V. as normal. Our theory was that the kids would get used to sleeping in noisy surroundings. So far, it’s worked. No walking on eggshells at the Svigel house.
Second, we made sure we didn’t habitually resort to methods of soothing our children that we weren’t prepared to continue indefinitely. Allowing the kids to climb in bed with us every night wouldn’t make it. Rocking them to sleep wasn’t an option. Running into the room ten times a night to tell them to stop talking wasn’t an acceptable part of the evening routine. The result? Kids are in bed by 8:00 p.m. and we have a few hours of mommy and daddy time.
Third, we established habits for our kids that we wanted to keep up. Sometimes this can be the best way to force lazy-leaning parents to do what they’re supposed to do anyway. So, every night my kids expect us to pray with them. Every night they expect a story from dad—usually something with a built-in lesson for little hearts. If the kids didn’t expect these things (even need them to make bed time complete) I’m sure those important rituals would just go the way of other good intentions. But we used this kid-conditioning principle to condition us.
Wet diapers aren’t meant to be cuddled. That much is certain. Still, this absurd and (as far as I know) fictional example of allowing kids to condition us rather than the other way around can serve as an important reminder. Kid conditioning is real. But like a double-edged blade, it can cut in two directions—it can be a way of digging unhealthy ruts in our parenting patterns. . . or it can be used as a means of instilling healthy habits in pliable hearts.
