1.) Don't let them see you laugh. Once they know you find them funny any productivity, seriousness, or listening has gone the way of the last donut that the five-year-old ate in one piece and is now coughing up fluffy, white powder as she attempts to swallow it whole and keep from giggling at the same time. It is best to instead to hasten an escape with as calm a demeanor as you can manage while biting your tongue and holding your side with laughter. Return when you have calmed down (or after you have texted someone who will find it just as funny and will be able to laugh for you) and calmly continue with your life lesson of "why that was a bad decision."
2.) Don't let them see you get angry. Really, as good as they are at stealing control with laughter, they are just as conniving with anger. My recommendation is the same policy. Take a second- compose yourself mentally and remember that someday this will be a funny story, and if it isn't you probably will not remember it in a year. Let things go... after you give them a stern lecture as to why your favorite red stilettos cannot double as ninja stars and should not be thrown at your sister.
3.) Pretend to be angry when necessary. I know this seems backwards but sometimes you need to show the seriousness of the situation in order to a) maintain or regain control of the room, b) show exactly how stupid the thing they just did was, or c) how very scared you were when you caught the baby carrying five knives across the kitchen, dropping and almost stabbing half her siblings along the way. Remember not to laugh. Never laugh. At least not for a year. Then you can laugh until you cry.
4.) Don't make it all about you. They don't care about, "Well when I was six I had to walk to school. In the snow. Up hill. Both ways." When they are telling you their problems today they want you to hear, sympathize, and help them. If you always tell them how their failings make your day difficult they won't tell you about how their day was difficult. and if you always go into how hard your life is/was they won't want to tell you about how hard their life sometimes is.
5.) Don't let them see you cry... and by cry I mean sob. I know we all have bad days but so do kids. They need the stability to know that you can keep it together and that you haven't given up everything. Crying for them can usually be solved by a hug, a kiss, or a lollipop from one of their parental units, but when you cry they can't be the parental unit. They need to believe you are a superhero... at least until they are old enough to fight their own super villains.
6.) Don't lie. They are the best liars in the world. They practically wrote the book on telling a believable whopper and they have less to lose from lying but lots to gain by catching you in a lie. I realize that I have told many stories of "lies that I have told my children" and even blogged about it once but there is a difference between lying about magic stuffed animals and lying about whether you were going to do something fun before they misbehaved.
7.) Have a sense of humor. In ten years it won't matter if they finished their green beans instead of hiding them in their pockets, said please before helping themselves to half the strawberries, or covered the cat from head to toe with stickers. Remember when I said, "never laugh." There is a time and a place for everything. Tell them funny stories. Laugh at their stupid kid jokes. Laughter gives you a common ground and will bring you closer than all the quality time in the world. Remember that you laugh with them, not at them.
8.) There's nothing worse than a bad day, right? No one understands you. No one will listen to you. The world is out to get you and nothing is going your way. Sound familiar? Now factor in that you can't reach the top of the refrigerator. It's not easy being a kid. It's not easy being ten. Or eight, or six, or five, or any age prior to eternity. Sometimes I find that I lose sight of this when I get caught up with how hard it is to be twenty-three. Then I remind myself (out loud usually because we all need to hear it), "It's hard being five, isn't it?" I usually get a resounding, "YES!" but the subtext is, "ZOMG! She understands!!!!" And then we can move on and have conversation about why we can't hurdle the harp. Or a compromise on folding the laundry. Or a sympathetic hug when it is raining outside and we can't go to the pool. Or something along those lines. Listening to them is just as important as guiding them as young Christians.
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