Rules

The Rules – that’s what my daughter told me she liked best after her first day of kindergarten. I stared at her blankly and repeated, “The Rules – what rules?” And I can honestly say I didn’t know what she was talking about.

Caroline was an “afternoon kid,” so she didn’t arrive home until nearly 3 o’clock. She had been apprehensive at noon as she waited for the bus; her dad waited with her to allay her newly developed fear of the neighborhood dogs. She looked like Heidi that day with her blond pig tails and, though she might be getting off to a shaky start, I knew this was a child who was going to love school. She had already mastered her numbers and letters and was hoping to learn to read as she set off that first day.

As she bounded from the bus with her sheaf of papers in hand and a grin on her face, I knew I wasn’t wrong. And, then, with her sister waiting anxiously to hear, I asked my question: What had she liked best about school? I had thought it might be the walk-in doll house that we had seen at kindergarten round-up. Or maybe it was the puzzle-like dinosaurs that were displayed on the bookshelves. No, it was none of those things. What she had liked best about school was:  THE RULES.

Then, in response to my puzzled look and, as if giving directions to a small child, she began to explain: “Oh, Mom,” she said, “It’s so wonderful; they have rules about everything: Where to hang your coat; where to put your shoes when they are wet, and where to put them when they are dry; where to put papers to take home and where to put the ones you are still working on.”

In response to her obvious delight, I asked: “And, don’t we have any rules around here?”

She never hesitated. “Oh, no, Mom,” she said, “we don’t have any rules.” And I expected her to go on, but it was not for her little mind to tell me why we didn’t have rules or what rules we didn’t have. She only knew rules when she saw them, and it was apparent she hadn’t been exposed to such rules before that first day of kindergarten. I could see it gave her a whole new sense of well-being. I could have cried.

Here was a child who had lived for five years in a house run by the mad hatter – looking everywhere for a rule to hang on to, and there were none to be found.

When I eventually picked myself up from my failed first five years of motherhood, which had passed before my eyes in the flash of this beaming face, I sought to correct my error immediately. I asked her if we should make up rules for our house – and she jumped at the chance and involved her three year old sister, as well.

“So,” I asked, “what kind of rules should there be.” Using her model from school, Caroline started with physical things: like where to put toys; rules for cleaning up rooms and not bringing sand in the house, etc. Then, she hesitated: there were the different rules and her mind struggled to give these a name. She described them: “Rules about sharing some toys (and putting away those you didn’t want to share); and “No ‘ha-ha-ing’ when somebody does something wrong.” She and her sister agreed in unison on this last one.

They also agreed they didn’t really want to have to tell their friends the rules when they came over. We finally decided on “house rules” - an important part being that they were not to be directed at a person but were said as: “In our house there is no ha-ha ing”; “In our house there is no pushing off the swings”, etc. Like the rules were parts of the structure. We may all have thought that if they became part of the house, there would be a sense of permanence to them. That was to be most important for me if I were to be the enforcer of the rules.

As I looked back on it, I grew up in a house without many rules: no curfews, no allowances, no attention paid to report cards. Living with seven other people, however, we were frequently reminded to be good citizens but there were few actual rules. So, it wasn’t surprising that I hadn’t instituted many rules in my own house. My father had actually described me as someone who thought rules were meant to be broken; now I was dealing with a small child who was delighted by rules.

Though I always felt bad that my oldest daughter had had to grow up with someone who didn’t play by the rules, we’ve made our adjustments. Now Caroline and I talk openly about our different styles and how my lack of attention to detail drives her crazy. When I tell a story and I mention driving through a Burger King and she knows it was a McDonalds, she is beside herself. She wants me to pay her to keep my checkbook and I want to do it. In our complementary positions, we’ve come to a working relationship. When she babysits for my sisters, they often tell us how much alike we are, and we’re both pleased. She’s learned to take the things she can live with, meticulously enter them on her internal balance sheet, and make rules of her own.

Maureen Bruce -Maureen is the newest member of the SONOMA WRITER'S ALLIANCE and you will be seeing more of her work.