Be the One Who Stops It

As we all know, I have perfect children. They listen the first time, they cheerfully obey, and they always get along.

[cue Pinocchio nose]

Well, okay, occasionally they have a wee disagreement.

(Possibly more than occasionally.)

In fact, pretty much every day, someone looks at someone else's cereal bowl for a tad too long, is accused of "staring," retaliates by showing off a mouthful of half-chewed food, is rewarded for her efforts with a "STOP IT!" and it goes on from there.

After it's descended into the hitting and kicking realm, I step in and the conversation goes something like this.

PM: Okay, tell me your side. What did you do?

The Boy: I hit her. But she...

PM: No. Stop. There is no way that you can complete that sentence in a way that makes it okay that you hit her.

The Girl: [smirking]

PM: Your turn kiddo. What did you do?

The Girl: I yelled at him. But he...

PM: No. You, too. There is no way you can complete that sentence in a way that makes it okay that you yelled.

Both kids: BUT HE/SHE STARTED IT!!

PM: You don't get it. I don't care who started it.

All I care about is that you are the one who stops it.

I'm reminded of these conversations as I think back to world events of this past week. Where an eye for an eye has made the whole world a bit more blind, murder has been justified (if not outright glorified), and this country has been plunged back into a turmoil of bewildering emotions, swirling beneath the cloud of the (inevitable) threat of retaliation.

I know that I'm a bleeding heart liberal pacifist, and I know that there is perhaps merit to the scorn I'd receive from those who might point out that I enjoy a tremendous freedom in being able to sit here in peace and comfort and type these words, a freedom that is somehow guaranteed by events such as this past week's.

I know that I have never (thank God) known the pain of having a loved one torn from me by someone else. And that it might seem insensitive and insulting to compare that horror to a sibling spat.

I also know that when I have been hurt badly, my instinctive reaction is to hurt back. To somehow do unto him what he's done to me. Not only to wound, but just to know that he knows how much it hurts.

But.

I also know that violence begets violence. In our house, it starts with a look. Then comes a mean word. Then a shout. Then a shove. Then a vicious kick. Then something gets thrown. And both sides invariably get hurt.

I also know that it's really hard to remain an unaffected bystander. As the shouting intensifies, I find my own heart racing, I charge in with as much physical presence as my grown-up body can bring, and I start trying to out-do them in yelling, bringing my own threats to the party.

And finally, I also know that neither of my kids has ever said, "you know, I thought I was right, but then you hit me and now I know you're right." Nor, given some time to calm down and talk about what happened, has anyone ever said to me, "I'm glad I hit her back."

I hate what is being done in this world in the name of security and justice and "he hit me first." From both sides.

I just want someone to step up and be the one who stops it.

(Also: in our house, when a child retaliates against some insult by sneaking into the other child's room and destroying something, we don't call it "justice" or a "good day for the PM house." We call it "a payback," and the child who took the law into his/her hands gets a timeout and loses screentime and reading privileges. Wonder if the UN has that kind of power....)