The importance of an ‘Yes Hour’

I started off with the philosophy that our generation was brought up in a box. A box that was dictated by the norms of then – in which respecting elders was critical and would earn the parents and the child a good reputation, where a career had to be forged in engineering, or medicine or accounting; ambition was sacred and it was defined by monetary success; and marriage was the most important final deliverable for the parents. This thinking and moulding was born out of a fear that unless the children (Generation X) were given these values and the boundaries that went with it, they would fail and be rejected. This thinking formed our boundaries to a stage that sometimes we do not even realise we are bound by that box and many of us would have suffered for it. My box was/is made of time-tables and deadlines, perhaps, that is why I need external motivation; it is made of every minute being used productively, so I cannot sit still. Fortunately for me, I am also encouraged to reflect often. I realised that I behaved in certain limiting patterns and that for personal growth I had to push the boundaries. But it is a struggle, because often oblivious to the strongly ingrained patterns, I do not even see the choice to push.

My parenting mission, therefore, is to build in my kids a sense of agency from a young age. I want them to know that you always have a choice and equally importantly, that you have to handle the consequences of your actions.

But but but, having no guardrails is not suitable for the younger ones – I have suffered. In a bid to let them hear and follow their inner voice, I have always tried to fulfil their wishes unless it was nearly impossible to. It doesn’t work, in the younger ones it leads to indiscipline and brattish behaviour and, in the older ones, a lack of direction. In a conversation with a senior educator in the life-skills space, he told me he had seen this trend of completely open approach to a child’s education and career – you can be anything you want to be, coming on the back of an upbringing that does not train children to make decisions — led to more confusion for the children. They knew and believed they could do anything, they just didn’t know how to find out what.

The ‘yes-hour’ fills that gap for me. I had originally intended to try out a yes-day, but my good mother reminded me that kids are smart and if you give them an inch, they will take a mile. So, to start off, I should only recommend a yes-hour AND that all requests expire within that hour, else I’d end up having them watch TV all day every day!

The ‘yes-hour’ allows us to push the boundaries as a family and learn some basics – of patience, of cause and effect, of consequences and of listening to one’s own voice.

So, it took four months of patience and daily bonding to get the feral cat into the house for one hour; we had a TV-watching marathon post school only to realise that playing with friends is more energising; we bunked school and missed getting a new locker; we made ice-cream for dinner and realised we have a kitchen enthusiast who now makes pancakes every Sunday for the parents.

It is not for the faint-hearted though, I suppose no parenting method really is. For the ‘yes-hour’ last week, the kids demanded some money to go and buy chocolates at the local kirana store (within the gated community). I was delighted. It sounded like I could cram independence, road safety and financial sense into a single lesson, so off they went. The ‘lesson’ as the older one narrated it to me, turned out to be a lot more. While S (older, daughter) proceeded to calculate the change for their purchases, she noticed K (younger, son) was missing. Abandoning the cash register, the friendly neighbourhood superhero kirana boy flung open the door, scanning 180 degrees of space for K. He heard him shout out from somewhere close but couldn’t seem to spot him. S, more familiar with K’s shenanigans, had chosen to scan the skies rather than the grounds to look for him. She spotted K on top of the mezzanine high parapet of the fountain right ahead! How he got there was secondary to S as they both dashed across to stop him from jumping down. She then spotted the painters who were a distance away carrying the ladder K probably used to climb up. Our dear kirana boy had the presence of mind to keep K engaged with a story while S used her newfound confidence in Hindi language (we have been speaking entirely in Hindi for a month now) to convince the painters to get the ladder back. K, safety now assured, decided he really knew what he was doing and jumping off the parapet with a flower in hand was the most efficient way forward. How could kirana boy, a man of 18, look less manly than K, a boy of 8? So he stood near the parapet with his hands outstretched to catch K! Thankfully, the painters, spurred by the novelty of a Hindi-speaking child, rushed forward and helped K down.

Hopefully K learned some lessons out of this experience. I certainly did.

An 11 yo motivated daughter can be very resourceful.

An 8 yo resourceful son can be dangerous.

And, to implement my ‘yes-hour’ I need the support of a whole village. So, wait for my next write up. I have to figure how to build this village to raise my children.

Pooja Sardana is an entrepreneur, philosopher, traveller, passionate supporter of gender equality and the mother of two children, a girl and a boy aged 11 years and 8 years respectively

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