So where’s my carpet? (Or, What Parenting a Five Year Old Teaches You About International Diplomacy)
So you know how Iran is working on its nuclear programme (for peaceful purposes, they say, and I ain’t arguing right now) and how several other countries (including Britain) are saying, hey now, how about you slow down on that whole uranium enrichment thing and make us feel better by, say, letting us take a peek every so often and, um, yes. Or we might get mad. Really. And then Iran says, poo to that, we’ll do what we like and what are you going to do about it? Hmmmm? And then the international community says, well, we might get quite mad. Maybe we’ll report you. And then Iran say, big poo to that. Do it, I dare you. And now the international community better think quite hard about this hard line approach stuff, because Iran evidently doesn’t give a fig.
Well, that’s exactly what it’s like, parenting Daniel. Daniel is Iran. Quirky. Complex. Obscure but powerful. And proud. And unlikely to ever ever back down in the face of cross, bullying parents. In fact, the more hard line we get, the more hard line he gets until frankly, if either of us had a nuclear program, we’d be reduced to wearing Hazmat suits and eating tinned franks by now. There is no peak of anger we can reach that he cannot top and it’s oh so horrible and ugly when that happens. Basically, you must never, never tell him to stop building nuclear weapons. You must calmly, kindly, lovingly get him to think that he would prefer not to build them without ever letting him think that you care a bit. You must listen to his thoughts on the matter and not snort disbelievingly. You must, fundamentally, respect that he might have a point. And then get him to hear your point. Then he listens. There’s almost always a way. And after a day full of finding ways, if you have to issue a few commands, well, he might listen. But basically, it’s all about subtlety and finesse, rather than force and power. Like twiddling a key gently in a lock when it won’t turn easily, rather than rattling it angrily.
So even if you send Iran to bed without its supper, you will not have solved the problem. You will, in one way or another (cf. Iraq) lose.
I hope for you that you have great days with him, where he waits until you finish peeling the carrots, then tells you he would love to give you a hug.
You really illustrate here the fine art of motherhood. From my end it seems you are an amazing, insightful, thoughtful, respectful, and nurturing mom.