The search for stress-free punctuality
One of my most frequent phrases is: «But now you have to get on with it!», closely followed by «It's time!» and «It's time!». Because of course I have children. And being a child means an absence of any sense of time. Or what adults understand by that.
This is a regular occurrence for us, especially in the mornings. Day after day, I explained to my eldest how little time she had until she had to go to school. And day after day, she was still sitting at the table in her pyjamas ten minutes later, counting through her cornflakes. My announcements didn't work until, another ten minutes later, I had to announce the inevitable with the authority of the advancing hour hand behind me: It was now eight and she was still in her vest.
Accompanying several children as they grow up is a bit like conducting a canon.
If she could turn back time by frantically putting on her clothes, she would have done it now. And then she raced down the stairs. So upset that I shouted after her that it wasn't so bad to be late once in a while. Nothing beats consistent messages. Only I remained unheard and she was desperate.
It would teach her a lesson tomorrow. That seemed clear - and of course it wasn't. Like so many things, it took less of a learning process than ... simply time. Even today, she often rushes off at the last minute. But she doesn't need me to tell her what to do, nor does she seem desperate. And in the end she arrives on time, I think.
Turn down the bass
Which is not to say that my statistics on the most frequent sentences have changed much. Accompanying several children as they grow up is a bit like conducting a canon. Everyone sings the same song, just with a time delay. At the moment, it's the youngest in particular who gets out of time with "Hörst du nicht die Glocken?
However, every repetition of this «same song» now makes me more annoyed. Because every time you do it, you also sabotage the beautiful factory setting of all under-tens: living in the flow. (Years later, they will download meditation apps for the arduous «reset» attempt).
Perhaps punctuality could be communicated in a more relaxed way. In a different way. I haven't found it yet.
Nevertheless, I constantly demonstrate to them how sacrosanct it is to be on time. It would be an exaggeration to say that my heart rate shoots up to 200 when I'm thirty seconds late. But from one minute onwards, my jaw tenses up, no matter how trivial the appointment is.
What if you didn't need to be rushed at all? I don't want to gloss over being late. Nor do I mean: «You just have to let them run.» But sooner or later they'll have got used to the clock anyway. Perhaps punctuality could be taught in a more relaxed way until that time comes.
In a way that takes a more relaxed approach to children's use of time and doesn't eliminate it so completely. I haven't found it yet, this way. But since I started looking for it, my «S'esch Ziit» sentences often sound as if someone has turned down the bass. That doesn't make us any more punctual. But interestingly, it doesn't make us less punctual either. And it's better for the jaw.
