The fact that we are both oldest children and rather self-assured know-it-alls makes it even more difficult for me to ignore his little odd behaviors (surely he would know the same things I know--he's the oldest too!). And when I have to explain the reason that my way is superior (how could there be a question?!), I usually find myself sputtering about how "everyone knows that's how you do it!"
When Merrill met my family (the source of all the correct ways of doing things), he was made aware of "presentation" in the preparation of food. He thought covering the whole slice of pumpkin pie with spray whipped cream was the supreme goal, but we soon had him straightened out. A year later, he made a Thanksgiving feast for two. Note the presentation. Have you ever seen a more symmetrical pile of mashed potatoes? We now award each other "presentation points" in jest to remind each other how little these things really matter.
I have found that by doing something the "wrong way," or in other words, the way my husband does it, I start to see that it doesn't really matter which way it happens, so long as it happens (the list I could make is embarrassingly long--I thought I'd ironed out all these rigid ideas over the course of 50+ housemates when I was single, but alas, I seem to have an endless supply).
Side story:
The very last housemates I had were an aunt, uncle and their kids who graciously let me stay with them for a month when I was between homes. As luck would have it, their dryer went out. I hated to see (and smell) their freshly washed clothes go sour, so I constructed a clothes line on the back deck and strung up their wet laundry. I think they weren't terribly impressed to see their clothes flapping in the breeze in full view of the neighborhood. But the self-reliant genius inside of me said this was the only proper course of action.
Side side story:
This assurance came from the fact that my grandpa (and my aunt's father) had relentlessly done the same thing with my wet laundry when I was that college kid who would visit mainly because she ran out of clean clothes. My jeans would be stiff and smell of wood stove when I left, but they'd been laundered right. My grandpa also knew the correct way to do everything. I'm sure of that. How else would my mom now know all the correct ways of doing things? (My oldest daughter now tells me all the right ways to do things:)
Back to side story:
I did the same thing just recently with cloth diapers because they would have taken hours in the dryer to fully dry, which makes them a little less economical and environmentally friendly:
Back to my original story:
Now that we have kids, I think this "can't beat 'em, so join 'em" philosophy is even more important. When they are making a "mess," as I see it, I can join them instead of beating them--er, I mean--instead of trying to "win" the power struggle.
Let me share an example.
My husband was annoyed the other day that the kids were hanging hair-ribbon-ropes over the banister (kind of like that series of knotted bed sheets used in the movies for a quick upper window escape). In this case, it was stuffed animals trying to escape, and sadly, looking like they'd hanged themselves in the process. The offending "rope" was tossed onto a tall cabinet to keep it away from the kids.*
Not many days after, I found myself needing to hang-dry quite a few clothing items, but outdoors was threatening rain, so I used the banisters instead, with a very satisfying result.
From this vantage point, I saw the ribbon rope in a heap atop the kitchen cabinets and retrieved it, set it where the kids would see it, and looked forward to them joining me in the fun.
*In Merrill's defense, he did have a valid concern: Today Richard took a strap and wrapped it around two spindles. When he pulled on the strap, one of the spindles bowed and looked ready to snap.
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