My Neighbor’s Children by Mrs. L. D. Avery-Stuttle

Review and Herald Publishing Association · Takoma Park Station, Washington, D. C. · Aug 12, 1915

My Neighbor’s Children

By Mrs. L. D. Avery-Stuttle

MRS. L. D. AVERY-STUTTLE

There is something intensely interesting, even fascinating, in watching the gradual growth and development of fruits and flowers and buds and blossoms. I go to the window every morning to take note of the wonderful transformations which are sometimes wrought in a single night.

Here are some tiny buds of yesterday, which have unfolded gloriously under the stimulating effects of the dews of night and the warm kisses of the morning sun; and there are some tender leaves which yesterday had scarcely showed themselves.

• Again, it is an interesting study to watch the growth of the lower animals, and to note their wonderful intelligence. But if this is true, how much more wonderful and profitable it is to watch the growth—the physical, mental, and, more important than all, the moral and spiritual development—of children.

It has been said that children are close imitators. They are more than that: they are critical observers; they are logical; they are philosophical. Moreover, they are quite generally correct in their mental diagnosis of even the facial expression of their parents and teachers; and they are very keen observers of the words they speak.

All this is so apparent that it is really surprising how we sometimes forget that the little ears are wide open to catch the faintest syllable of anything which especially relates to themselves.

Some time ago I spent the day with a woman whose little son was a bright boy not quite three years old. Of course I held out my hand to Johnnie, and undertook some simple form of salutation. The little fellow promptly answered my smile with a baby frown, and hid his face in his mother’s apron. In vain I tried to induce him to come to some friendly terms with me.

While I was wondering at his strange conduct,—for children are generally glad of attention, and I saw that he was not at all bashful,—the mother hastened to explain that Johnnie was very strange lately; that he had a queer notion that he would not speak to any one outside the family and that she could do nothing with him. She should like to have him do differently, but he simply would not.

Of course Johnnie was an interested listener to all this, and apparently decided that not only was he a very important factor in the household, but that his baby will was not to be disregarded, no matter what the wishes of his mother happened to be.

All through the day it was the same. Baby needed a thorough shampoo, the mother explained, but really he refused to allow her to wash his head; and as soon as she undertook to wash it, he “screamed and screamed,” until she “just had to give it up.” Meanwhile Johnnie only winked solemnly and wisely, and very logically decided to repeat the experience; and you may be sure he will not be slow in doing so.

During the day, Johnnie and his peculiarities were often discussed—and always in his presence. “His father used to put him to bed,” remarked the mother, a little sadly; “but baby will not allow him to do so any more, so of course I have it to do myself. He has even taken it into his head not to go to his grandpa, as he used to; he doesn’t want grandpa to do anything for him. But if one of the other children tries to take grandpa’s attention, then baby is jealous at once, and very readily climbs to his grandfather’s knee.” This last was explained with a smile, as if it were quite the correct thing for baby to be jealous.

Now I regret the fact that this experience is common in more families than one. Indeed, it seems to be quite the thing—it has come to be the rule and not the exception.

What can be done to correct this unwise practice of telling of a child’s naughtiness or “smartness” in his presence, and, above all things, declaring that: “he cannot be made to mind”? How can we expect the children to be obedient when we continually affirm in their presence that they cannot be made to obey?

I will only add by way of suggestion, the friendly advice which I very carefully and lovingly gave the little mother before I left her:—“The next time baby is put to bed, just tell him that papa will attend him tonight, and that Johnnie is such a good boy that you are sure he will not object. Always express to him your expectation that he is going to mind. Never suggest disobedience to him. Do not discuss him while he is in hearing distance. If you wish to speak of his cunning ways to others, be very sure he is not near.”

Let us hope that this dear little mother, as well as many others, will profit by this friendly advice.

Lansing, Mich.