the land of no

We passed a lemonade stand while driving this afternoon. I heard Liam utter a disappointed sound in the backseat.

"What?" I said, sure that he would begin some whine about why can't we have a lemonade stand, that it's not fair that those boys get to have one, and so on and so on. Instead, he surprised me.

"I wanted to buy some lemonade," he said.

As quickly as the word "no" regularly rolls off my tongue, I said, "okay," and pulled into a driveway to turn the car around.

Liam looked at me stunned. "Really?" he said.

"Sure, why not?"

The truth is, I could give him a hundred reasons why not and he knows it. Lately I have been the queen of no. Sometimes when I utter the word, it's like an out of body experience. I watch it happening and I don't even know how to stop myself.

Another time. Not today. Stop begging. No more whining. Drop it. Quit.

This is the problem with life in the land of no: The word has lost its impact and a dozen other admonishments need to be uttered - in an ever-escalating tone - in order to reinforce the fact that no means no. But, does it?

For me, it usually means it's not convenient or I don't like it or "perfect" kids don't do that. Or it's just a reflex.

Some days I do my writing work on the second floor of the library, near the balcony that overlooks the large print stacks. Almost every time I'm there, a mother chastises her child in the stacks, usually for being too loud or silly or for whining or begging. This is the dark side of the library - kids are just designed to disobey its rules and trying to reign them in is a losing battle. No one ends up happy.

Last week I saw a woman using the computer to search for a book. Her child was next to her and kept hopping out into the aisle. The mom was preoccupied but she must have sensed that the noise and activity level was escalating to an embarrassing level.

"Stop it!" she hissed. "Get over here, right now."

The child obeyed for a moment and then jumped out again. The mom yanked the child into the stacks. "I've had it," she whispered. "I am so sick of you!"

Being a mom, I could understand where she was coming from, but watching the scenario from above, it broke my heart. The boy was giggling and looking for a fun way to pass a few boring minutes waiting for mom. By the end, he was in tears. And his mom was so occupied with appearances and agenda, she never even saw him - his creativity, his energy, his joy. Instead, she did what came easiest and used her fifty ways - including a real zinger - to say no.

I wondered if she would feel bad later. If she would wish that she had just dropped the search and said, "Let's go to the park and run." If she would be sorry she hadn't let go of all the reasons to say no and just said yes.

I know I think these things in the aftermath of no. Which is why, today, when Liam gave me that bewildered look as soon as I said yes, I realized that I need to find a new queendom. From what I hear, kids don't whine as much in the land of yes. They are happier, more satisfied and, surprise, more obedient.

Liam purchased his lemonade this afternoon. He proudly hopped out of the car and did it on his own. As we drove home, I asked him how it tasted. He said it was kind of warm and sour but he liked it. Considering we left the land of no to buy that drink, I'm guessing he really liked it.