Creative Punishment

We love Julia more than we can say, but all children have their moments. Lately Julia's moments have come during Primary, where she has, for some months now, affected a paralyzing fear of sharing time. She made either Lia or me stay in the sharing time room with her every single Sunday (10 of them) we spent in DC. She had promised most earnestly, however, that when we returned to Connecticut--when she could go to sharing time with old friends and familiar teachers--her fears would vanish and we would be free.

This, in the event, was a lie. I took both the girls downstairs after sacrament meeting: Eli bounded gleefully off to nursery without a backward glance, and Julia hopped up and down in anticipation of returning to her own primary. When we walked into the sharing time room, however, her confidence fled. She declared her teachers to be terrifying beyond description, and my continued presence at her side essential. And she moaned most gratingly.

This was too much. I took her into the hall; back into the room; then back to the hall, negotiating all the while. But she would bend neither to threat, nor bribe, nor reason. My wrath was great. Unfortunately, dear old friends from the ward kept accosting me with hale and hearty greetings of welcome home. I was torn between fury directed at my firstborn child and delight inspired by my friends. I finally took Julia home where I could yell at her in peace.

I was grieved and shocked to see that this didn't produce the desired effects. In exasperation I finally asked Julia what she thought her punishment should be for feigning fear and breaking a promise. I had already suggested various means of destroying princess-related toys, but she declined them all.

"Well then," I said, "you had better just go back to your class, and I to mine."

"NO!!!" she cried. "I should be punished!"

"Then what should your punishment be?"

At this she paused to contort her visage into as plaintive an aspect as she could muster. Then, acknowledging in penitence most abject the extent of her crimes, she suggested, "My punishment should be that I can't"--another pause, as though she could hardly name the sentence--"My punishment should be that I can't play the piano for two days." She then shuddered theatrically.

Since Julia touches the piano maybe once a week--and then for the sole sake of making noise--this proposal was hard to be borne with a straight face. I managed it somehow, though; took Julia back to church; endured the indignity of sitting through yet another sharing time; and finally fled to elders quorum after tricking Julia into staying in her "small class," which she loved.

We are all glad to be back in our wonderful ward.