T.Puzzle’s new glasses had finally arrived. There was only one minor problem.
He refused to wear them.
As I sat facing him in the optometrist’s office with his new glasses neatly folded in my palm, I ran through possible actions or threats to get him to comply.
I could validate his sense of injustice at having to wear glasses that actually fit snug on his head (as opposed to his very old, very stretched out former pair). Maybe if he felt ‘heard’ he’d be open to reason.
I could square up my shoulders, look him dead in they eye and say, ‘Put the glasses on. If you don’t, you will go to your room when you get home and you won’t come out until you decide to where them.”
I assessed the people milling about the waiting room.
They looked like the judgmental lot that we mothers are so used to encountering.
I knew I was going to look like a Mom-with-no-soul (T.Puzzle’s baby face and dimples make him look like an innocent lamb) but I went for the second option anyway.
As my threat of being sent to his room reverberated through the office and T.Puzzle wailed, a ripple of compassion went through the air.
I heard things like, ‘bless his heart,’ and ‘he doesn’t like how they feel, poor thing.’
The technician who adjusts the glasses swooped into the room with his pliers at the ready. “I’ll loosen them for him. Maybe that will help.”
Since I already had long surpassed the coddling route I decided to go all the way with it.
“Nope. They fit just fine (they honestly did). I have dealt with stubborn boys for years. He will wear them as is. Maybe not now, maybe not tomorrow, but he WILL wear them.”
I took the glasses and dramatically placed them in my purse.
“Well, T.Puzzle, we better get home so you can go to your room.”
“Nooooooo, Mommy! I do wear them! I do wear them!”
And simple as that, he did.
Not five minutes later away from prying eyes, he was perfectly content and proud to wear his new ‘big boy’ glasses.
So at this point, Mom sent herself to her room and will be refusing to come out until further notice.