my little pavlovian puppies

Because they say and do ridiculously hilarious things most of the time and are just as ridiculously adorable, you might be tempted to think that my children are perfect. But in this you would be gravely mistaken. They scream and fight and talk back with the best (worst?) of them. And, of course, since I'm as normal as they are, it's making me want to hibernate under the blankets on my bed until they outgrow these character flaws.

But if there's one thing motherhood has taught me, it's that sleep is impossible with a tattle-tale awake in the house. So instead I gave both Garrett and Caleb an empty baby food jar and, adapting an idea found here, asked them each what their greatest wish was. Garrett, after I told him that he wasn't yet old enough for a Cadillac, told me that he wanted money to spend at the school store; Caleb, after he was informed that a dinosaur was not possible, decided on his very own copy of The Monster at the End of This Book.

I then set the alarm on my phone and told them that if Garrett did no talking back and Caleb did no hitting (both habits which currently rank high as needing to be corrected), they'd each get a lima bean to put in their jar when the alarm went off about a half an hour later. Throughout the day I'd continue resetting the alarm to go off at varying intervals, and if they didn't talk back or hit, they'd continue earning lima beans. And when their jars were completely full, they'd be granted their [second] greatest wish.

We've been at it for three days now, and I'm happy to report that there has been a dramatically reduced amount of talking back and hitting at our house. Because I check them so frequently, both boys are remarkably conscious of their actions, and they love earning lima beans. The ringtone set on my alarm makes us all want to dance, and when it sounds, we all groove for a moment before, like Pavlov's dog, they automatically run to put a bean in their jar, unless, as occasionally happens, they haven't actually earned one. When that is the case, they've been surprisingly accepting of the consequence, though I'm sure it helps to know that they can try again during the next round. And -- bonus! -- even though their goals are distinctly separate, they are each unwittingly striving to meet the other's goal as well. It's a win-win all around!

My children may not be naturally perfect, but apparently I can condition them to be so. Whatever it takes, I say, because as exhausted as motherhood has made me, I'd rather not hibernate through their childhoods.