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Authors: Essie Summers
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be inclined to—”
“To think he should eat everything. No, we ran our Home on modern ideas, allowed them a few dislikes, did a lot of old-fashioned mothering as—oddly enough—the newest idea is that nothing can take its place. Occasionally a different setting jolts a child into accepting things he wouldn’t at home. It’s wonderful how they like to be one of the herd too ... if they see others eagerly wading into some despised food, they do too. Simon said you’d explain Rebecca’s trouble.”
She saw the color rise under the fair skin. “Well,, I don’t know what you feel about this. It’s probably one you’ve met up with. I mean it’s aggravated by psychological upsets very often. And this will have distributed Rebecca. She’d almost got over it when her daddy went away and it flared up again. One thing I’m terrified of—that she might get smacked for it. I’ve had no bother with either of the others, so I can’t account for it. Even Mark at his age—”
Kirsty interrupted her, smiling. “I’ve got it, don’t worry. You mean that Mark at two-and-a-bit is out of nappies at night, and Rebecca still has a wet bed?”
“But not always. Just enough to make her worry. I haven’t let on to her that Mark doesn’t any more. It would make her feel worse.”
“Quite right. I’ll enter into the conspiracy. You mustn’t worry, Nan. Our matron had more success with this than any other had had. Do you know how?”
Nan shook her head.
“By completely ignoring it. She was always furious with any parent who had scolded or smacked, said it was iniquitous, that it terrified the child to the point of nervous trouble and worsened it immediately. She didn’t even believe in restricting drinks at tea-time, said it underlined the fact that the child hadn’t the same control. As newco m ers with this trouble arrived in, she told them lots of children were like that, and what did it matter with a good rubber sheet and a draw-slip. Sure, they’d got over it some time, everybody did, some sooner, some later. It wasn’t worth worrying about. It was amazing. The children went to bed relaxed and happy. Before long they were always dry. Have you been worrying yourself sick about it?”
“Yes. I admit I’m a little over-anxious about the children.”
Kirsty patted her hand. “Of course you are. You had so many ups and downs as a child. I know. So did I. Your family sound like any ordinary family to me. Now, there are things you’ll want to know. I’m rather ultra-careful about fire. I don’t smoke in bed because I don’t smoke!” She grinned. “I believe in fire-guards and safety catches for electric jugs, and turning pan handles inwards ... I lock up all medicines and cleaning fluids and polythene bags. I don’t let the children play unattended near water, or dangle aprons from the clothes-line with the neck-loop downwards.
“I don’t believe in sending them to bed as punishment. Their beds should be their one inviolate refuge, and they ought to be happy when they go there, have their storytime, their prayers heard, their goodnight kisses. They should be allowed to read in bed with the light on, to settle them to drowsiness, or to take a cuddly toy. I think a spank is quite a good way of dealing with some things, but think it should be given in the place intended for punishment and never, never with anything other than one’s own hand. Anything to add to that list?”
Nan’s face lost its look of strain. “No, except something which you have only forgotten, I suppose ... to run the cold in the bottom of the bath first. Kirsty, I hope I don’t sound preachy, but I hope you find healing in looking after the children. It should be busy enough to take your mind off—things. I’m sorry Simon’s in such a rough place, so far away, but the novelty may compensate you for that. And its beauty. I’ve told Simon to take our station wagon. Better for it to be running, anyway. He sold his car before his
“To think he should eat everything. No, we ran our Home on modern ideas, allowed them a few dislikes, did a lot of old-fashioned mothering as—oddly enough—the newest idea is that nothing can take its place. Occasionally a different setting jolts a child into accepting things he wouldn’t at home. It’s wonderful how they like to be one of the herd too ... if they see others eagerly wading into some despised food, they do too. Simon said you’d explain Rebecca’s trouble.”
She saw the color rise under the fair skin. “Well,, I don’t know what you feel about this. It’s probably one you’ve met up with. I mean it’s aggravated by psychological upsets very often. And this will have distributed Rebecca. She’d almost got over it when her daddy went away and it flared up again. One thing I’m terrified of—that she might get smacked for it. I’ve had no bother with either of the others, so I can’t account for it. Even Mark at his age—”
Kirsty interrupted her, smiling. “I’ve got it, don’t worry. You mean that Mark at two-and-a-bit is out of nappies at night, and Rebecca still has a wet bed?”
“But not always. Just enough to make her worry. I haven’t let on to her that Mark doesn’t any more. It would make her feel worse.”
“Quite right. I’ll enter into the conspiracy. You mustn’t worry, Nan. Our matron had more success with this than any other had had. Do you know how?”
Nan shook her head.
“By completely ignoring it. She was always furious with any parent who had scolded or smacked, said it was iniquitous, that it terrified the child to the point of nervous trouble and worsened it immediately. She didn’t even believe in restricting drinks at tea-time, said it underlined the fact that the child hadn’t the same control. As newco m ers with this trouble arrived in, she told them lots of children were like that, and what did it matter with a good rubber sheet and a draw-slip. Sure, they’d got over it some time, everybody did, some sooner, some later. It wasn’t worth worrying about. It was amazing. The children went to bed relaxed and happy. Before long they were always dry. Have you been worrying yourself sick about it?”
“Yes. I admit I’m a little over-anxious about the children.”
Kirsty patted her hand. “Of course you are. You had so many ups and downs as a child. I know. So did I. Your family sound like any ordinary family to me. Now, there are things you’ll want to know. I’m rather ultra-careful about fire. I don’t smoke in bed because I don’t smoke!” She grinned. “I believe in fire-guards and safety catches for electric jugs, and turning pan handles inwards ... I lock up all medicines and cleaning fluids and polythene bags. I don’t let the children play unattended near water, or dangle aprons from the clothes-line with the neck-loop downwards.
“I don’t believe in sending them to bed as punishment. Their beds should be their one inviolate refuge, and they ought to be happy when they go there, have their storytime, their prayers heard, their goodnight kisses. They should be allowed to read in bed with the light on, to settle them to drowsiness, or to take a cuddly toy. I think a spank is quite a good way of dealing with some things, but think it should be given in the place intended for punishment and never, never with anything other than one’s own hand. Anything to add to that list?”
Nan’s face lost its look of strain. “No, except something which you have only forgotten, I suppose ... to run the cold in the bottom of the bath first. Kirsty, I hope I don’t sound preachy, but I hope you find healing in looking after the children. It should be busy enough to take your mind off—things. I’m sorry Simon’s in such a rough place, so far away, but the novelty may compensate you for that. And its beauty. I’ve told Simon to take our station wagon. Better for it to be running, anyway. He sold his car before his
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