Feb 2, 2024 2 min read Exhaustion

Threats don't work

It's not their fault.

There's nothing more infuriating.

They're tired, you're exhausted, and they're going to be equally wound up and cranky tomorrow if they don't just go to sleep.

But they couldn't care less.

They're so worked up, so overtired running on adrenaline and the last remnants of sugar from that pudding you promised yourself you wouldn't give them again.

But here we are.

You've tried everything.

"If you climb into bed now, I'll read you another story."

"If you help Daddy and get all snuggled up, we can do something really fun tomorrow."

"If you don't get into bed, then we can't do something fun tomorrow, because you'll be too tired in the morning."

"If you don't get into bed now, then..."

And you run out of steam. Nothing's working. You're not even sure if they're even hearing the exasperated words coming out of your mouth.

The threats don't work. The bargaining doesn't work. Nothing works, because they've run out of thinking ability.

Don't get me wrong - I'm not insulting their intelligence - it's completely different to that.

It's the same feeling you have at the end of a long work day when you open the fridge door and look blankly at the shelves.

"I can't even think about what to make."

When you're that tired, your cognitive ability to reason and make thought-out decisions collapses in on itself and you revert to your deepest paleolithic instincts, which usually involves scoffing a whole can of Pringles.

They get the same thing.

When they're over tired, exhausted and running on empty - they stop being able to think - and their behaviour will be guided entirely by their most basic instincts, including:

Let's jump on the bed
Let's take off all my clothes
Let's throw all the toys as far as we can
Let's drink everything we can find

It feels infuriating as a parent. It feels like a deliberate rebellion against your hard work to look after them. It feels ungrateful and unkind, especially when they're looking at you with a wide grin on their face just to see your reaction as they do exactly the thing you've asked them not to do.

But it's not.

It's the Pringles.

They can't help it, they've lost the ability to regulate their behaviour and are compulsively acting out every possible intrusive thought that pops into their overwrought cortex.

It's not their fault - they're just too young - sure, if a seventeen year old is doing it, then that's a different matter, but when a three year old is running around giggling and throwing things when you have asked them nine times nicely and five times not-so-nicely to just come and get their pajamas on - it's the same as an excited labrador.

They have no control, they're no longer driving the bus. They've relinquished the wheel and are merrily flopping around on the back seats as they career towards inevitable injury.