Pants-Free Parenting: Forget lectures, turn to ‘silent parenting’ instead

My 4-year-old fell asleep coming home from the park one day. She never does this. So, I brought my toddler in the house first and then, carried her inside.

My son was only alone for perhaps a minute. Nevertheless, when I walked into the kitchen, I saw him standing on the counter, clutching a giant piece of pie.

He looked me in the eye.

'My pie,” he said.

'Get down,” I hissed. But I could do nothing. My arms were full of 45 pounds of sleeping 4-year-old and he knew it. He shook his head, his cheeks full of pie. I glared, walked upstairs and deposited my 4-year-old in bed. When I came back down, my son was sitting on a stool finishing his pie. 'My pie,” he repeated. 'My.”

Game, set, 2-year-old.

My son doesn't turn 2 until July, but like any good second child, he's learned a lot from his older sister and is wise beyond his 22 months. He can spot a ‘w' a mile away. He found one on the back of the cereal box and finds them in the license plates of passing cars. 'DOUBLE U!” He shouts as if he's found gold.

He also loves to stand right by his sister as she colors - just close enough so she can feel his breath, but not so close that he's touching. 'Hi,” he says with a smile. 'Hi. Hi. Hi.”

'Mom, brother is bothering me up again,” my daughter shouts.

I should probably do something. I should regulate. I should teach them something about life and kindness and not annoying the hell out of the person who sleeps in the same house as you, which is a valuable life skill, but I say nothing. I turn away. 'Figure it out, guys,” I like to say. 'Figure it out.”

Lately, my parenting has been one of strategically missed moments. I should be parenting, but you know what? No way.

I'm tired of the sound of my own voice these days. I'm tired of hearing repeated lectures of, 'We use kind words.”

'We don't hit the people we love with pool noodles.”

'We don't poke our sister's arm when she's in time out and yell, ‘Time out!' ”

Lately, I've stopped believing myself. Like an Old Testament God, I'm giving my children over to the error of their ways.

The natural consequences of taking your brother's toy? He takes your necklace. Everyone fights over the pool noodle, mom gets the pool noodle. I call it street justice.

I've been trying not to even speak the words, 'Time out.” I just point - a long-armed, ominous gesture like the ghost of Christmas future in 'A Christmas carol” except the tombstone reads, 'Here sits Lyz's children in time out, naughty until eternity.”

I'm a writer. I'm a big believer in the power of words. Words can inspire change. They can spark revolutions. They can do anything except get you a lot of money or impact a 2-year-old's behavior.

I've had a 2-year-old before and I know that even if you explain over and over how it's dangerous to stand on granite countertops and shove fistfuls of pie in your mouth, you won't get through to them.

Instead, I'm just going to parent through this year with a little regulated street justice, the silent finger of time out and bourbon.

' Lyz Lenz is a writer, mother of two and hater of pants. Email her at eclenz@gmail.com or find her writing at LyzLenz.com.