When we were kids and (only rarely) got into fights with our siblings, we hit upon an ingenious way to really annoy said siblings without getting into trouble. We’d just talk to the wall. (I’m sure you never thought of it.)

“Wall, I wish Chani would stop breathing so loudly.” Or “Wall, do you know, Rikki is such a baby, she cries over every little pinch.”

“Just talking to the wall, Mom,” we’d say in our own defense when Chani or Rikki would tattle.

As we grew up, we matured into adult people who could communicate. So I thought I wouldn’t need to hone the important skill of wall communication. But then I had my own kids. And they didn’t always listen to their mother.

I went to a chinuch shiur in which we were adjured not to tell our kids things when we knew they wouldn’t listen, because of the prohibition of lifnei iver (causing someone to sin). We were also taught to say things just once, so our kids wouldn’t get into the habit of ignoring us.

Say it only once and expect the playroom to get cleaned? Who was the lecturer kidding? I may as well talk to a wall.

And then I remembered this technique from my childhood. I tried it out and discovered that if my kids were elbow deep in a fight and I said, “Wall, I wish this fight would end. I hate when my children hit each other,” my kids, finding this hysterical, would dissolve into giggles, and you know what? The fight would end.

I’ve implemented this in a broader scope, and our home has become much calmer.

“Wall, get these kids into bed,” doesn’t work so well. “Wall, brush your teeth,” isn’t particularly effective, either. But “Wall, do you know how hard I worked on this supper? Shana asked for meatballs, Simi wanted squiggly noodles, and Dovi likes soup,” can do pretty well at quieting down the you-always-make-the-worst-suppers refrain. And, “Wall, I will say this once: No ice cream for girls who break their brothers’ tower,” is a good way to get the message across without charging a child for a crime not yet committed.

I look forward to the day my children are old enough to communicate in a way that’s not whining or screaming. I can’t wait to have conversations that involve my saying, “Sure, sweetheart, whatever you want,” because their requests do not involve things like eating taffies for breakfast or riding bikes without helmets or sending Meir to live in a different house, at least until his bar mitzvah.

In the meantime, I’m getting my 80/20 in by not saying no to my children, but to the wall. “I’m sorry, Wall. I can’t buy five-year-old boys a real motorcycle. They’ll have to wait until they grow up.” “I also wish no one ever had to take a bath ever, Wall. I agree, they take so much time away from playing. Unfortunately, in this house, girls who’ve spent the afternoon in a sand park don’t really have a choice about a bath.”

(Excerpted from Family First, Issue 615)