The Bluff

Published in The Broomfield Enterprise, 7/15/07 My two youngest children are 11 months apart. The close proximity in their age, as you can imagine, creates an added layer of chaos and conflict in our home. My five-year-old son is in a constant state of proving that he is older, bigger, stronger and smarter than his little sister, and I feel for his plight. He’s the middle kid—that’s tough enough on it’s own. Add in a little sister so close that she does most of the same activities…that can just about put one over the edge. There are really only two options: Give her away (his first choice) or figure out how to live together and get along (my first choice). I hate to use the “since I’m older, I win” argument, but… In addition to the incessant bickering, the two have taken to telling on each other in an unrelenting battle of blame. So the other day, when they began their woeful stories of pain, my husband and I sat back and quietly listened. My daughter, in a weak and innocent voice, told of the suffering she had experienced, the name she had been called, and how she had been “smacked”. My son, eyes as wide as saucers, told of her lies. He had been called the names. He had been the smack-ee, not the smack-er. His sister was, in all truth, 100%, I can’t believe she would say these things, lying. So, who to believe? I mean, one of them has a track record…this we know…but I hate to be a profiler. Every book I’ve ever read, every spiritual leader from Jesus to Buddha suggests starting with a clean slate. This is how we want to be treated, and our kids deserve the same. Of course…on the other hand…there is the Dr. Phil school of thought, which suggests “the best predictor of future behavior is past behavior”, and Oprah believes in him…so this is a tough one. The solution all depends on which school you subscribe to, and I haven’t committed to either. So, I took a gamble and pulled out an old, dusty trick from the dark corner of the parenting attic. I went for the bluff. Now, all parents know this is a tricky one to pull off, so we don’t use it lightly. It could backfire in an instant, making our threats transparent and setting us up for the future, “Oh yeah—what are you gonna do about it?” moment. But I was desperate, and I went for it. “We believe you both,” I said. “So, we’ll have to turn to the tapes.” I explained that we have a video camera for just these purposes, and we could go back to the tapes and see exactly what happened on the computer screen in Dad’s office. We would see the child who was lying, and they would then suffer the consequences. Of course, before we went through all that, we told them, they would have one more chance to tell their side of the story. The trap had been set. We sat in quiet anticipation, camouflaged with confidence, waiting to see if one of them would be hungry enough to take the bait. They sniffed around, their little brains working wildly away at assessing the situation. I moved to the edge of my seat, biting my tongue from letting the admission of what I was doing out past the teeth. And then, my friends, victory. A very small hand, in a very small movement, raised just above the elbow. Now, I’m not going to say I had already guessed who it would be—that would be wrong. The important thing here is that they had taken the bait. They fell for the bluff. This may have been…wait—yes—it was—the best day of my life. I had won. Now, I understand the responsibility that comes with this kind of power. The Bluff is not a toy, and it will be returned, appropriately, to that dark and dusty corner of the attic before it’s powers turn and can be used for evil. But for today–I’m going to bask in the glory. I’m going to rejoice in the moment that I will always remember, as it may never come again.