Thursday, March 22, 2012

In which I hold office hours

image via WildLifePrints

The kids know that we both work in offices and they think of offices as wonderlands, magical places filled with candy and entertainment. So meetings, it stands to reason, are filled with unicorn kisses and extra chocolate. Grownups' lives are so cool, man.

I've taken to applying that magic at home. When one of the kids is having a hard day or I can see that there's a problem that needs a little encouragement to spill forth, I ask if anyone would like to take a meeting. And then I always ask: "my office or yours?"

Her office is her bed. My office is mine. (Mr. G has never yet needed to take a meeting. I'm sure the day will come, though.)

The agenda is generally child-directed. The important part is that we've removed ourselves from the bustle of our family to a quiet space with a closed door. The space becomes a sanctuary, made holy by the special just-us time and confessions or day's hurts that release themselves from the sore spots troubling my sweet girl. We talk in bed, sometimes she in my arms or sometimes us nose-to-nose, and every meeting concludes with a forehead kiss and a cuddle. That is the procedure.

And so I said tonight, "all better?" And she nodded at me, yes. I uttered the words that bring our meetings to a close: "let me give you a kiss, and we can snuggle for a minute, okay?" And she said, no, that's not how the meetings end anymore. 

"They don't, my love?"

No, new plan, Mama. A kiss and a snuggle and a jump on the bed!

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