Learner Dad: Our kids are drawn to sand as if it’s sugar

We all got in the car after dinner and headed for the beach. Five minutes after we arrived, my son was sitting in a large hole he’d dug for himself in the sand

Picture: iStock 

Do you intervene when a fight breaks out between your kids? I assumed everyone did until I had an eye-opening chat with my friend yesterday. He has three kids around the same age as our two, and he and his wife stay clear of any skirmishes unless they become overly physical.

I can see where he’s coming from. Our two are great, they can spend hours pretend-killing each other during some made-up game on the trampoline without actually falling out. (Falling out with each other, as against falling out of the trampoline - we have a net.) But eventually, they crack and things fall apart. Our son climbs out of the trampoline crying, his sister says she didn’t mean it.

When my son starts crying because someone hit him, I know I’m going to get angry. It's an instinctive response.  The problem is he knows this as well and let’s just say he doesn’t share his sister’s obsession with telling the truth. (That will get her in trouble in later life.)

It’s impossible to referee a fight like this. It’s not like we have a video ref camera installed on the trampoline so we can pause the fight to see if there actually was a foul. (And no, I’m not going to install one. Just because they got outdoor CCTV cameras into Aldi doesn’t mean I have to buy them.)

Generally what happens is I go out to the back garden and blame one of them. It could be either of them really - I do my best to alternate the blame in case I seem biased. The problem is once you go out there, you have to hand down a judgement. Kids have this innate sense of harsh justice, where someone has to be the bad guy, and they’re willing to take a chance that it won’t be them. So I end up telling my daughter to keep her hands to herself, or else telling my son to stop crying. They get over it in about five seconds and go back to pretend killing each other again. I t feels like a waste of time.

I’d probably be better off doing what my friend does, and steer well clear unless there is a  threat to life and limb. The only thing I need to do now is control my emotions when I hear one of them crying, because that can be tricky after all the lockdown proximity. Manage that, and I’ ll have a new mantra: sort it out between yourselves kids.

Beach buddies

What is it with kids and sand? Adults hate sand, it gets everywhere and the smallest bit can turn the tiles into your kitchen into an ice rink. But our kids are drawn to sand as if it’s sugar. 

A couple of days after the 5km rule was lifted, we all got in the car after dinner and headed for The Dock beach in Kinsale. Five minutes after we arrived , my son was sitting in a large hole he’d dug for himself in the sand. His sister took off her leggings and ran into the water in her underwear. 

It was great - the first sign that lockdown is coming to a slow end. All around us, kids were cutting loose. A little guy in a red swimsuit sidled up to our two and they became instant beach buddies. I think he was speaking in Polish to them, but it didn’t matter because they were able to communicate through the international language of sand. (You pick some up and throw it in the water. Repeat.) 

It was a pain at the end, trying to get them dressed to go home (their Mom brought a spare set of clothes, never loved her more), but it was a price worth paying. I shuttled our son into the shower when we got home and hosed him down in warm water, to clear off the sand. He gave me a hug when I was drying him and said, “You’re the best Dada in the world.”

 I’m not really. All I did was bring them to the sand.