The New Management: How My Five-Year-Old Became My Boss
There was a time, perhaps in a distant and hazy past, when parents were the ones who issued the directives. We held the schedules, we dictated the menus, and we certainly decided when it was time to leave the house. But as I’ve learned recently, those days are over. I am no longer the CEO of my own life; I am, at best, a mid-level consultant reporting directly to a 42-inch tall executive named Valerie.
The power shift happens slowly, then all at once. It starts with the "helpful suggestions" regarding my morning routine and ends with a five-year-old effectively running a small-scale logistics operation during a recent road trip to see her sister Kim.
The Itinerary Flip
When planning our trips this April, I had grand visions of organized site-seeing and perhaps a moment of peace to sit back and relax. Valerie, however, had different metrics for success. Apparently, my role was not "Trip Leader," but rather "Primary Transport and Snack Retrieval Specialist."
I found myself being briefed on the proper way to pack the car—specifically, where Tia should sit to ensure maximum head-petting efficiency. If the dog isn't happy, nobody is happy, and Valerie is the self-appointed Chief of Canine Relations. My only joy in this was seeing her walk Tia. Since it was actually the other way around.
Survival Gear for the Subjugated
I’ve spent a lot of time lately researching portable power stations and RV equipment for potential camping trips in the SUV and tiny trailer. I used to think this was for "survival in the wilderness." I now realize it’s actually about maintaining a charging port for a tablet so the Boss can watch her shows while I figure out how to heat the SUV in 30-degree weather.
I’m basically a high-tech butler in a fleece vest.
The Bottom Line
Despite the lack of a dental plan and the fact that my supervisor occasionally refuses to wear socks, the benefits aren't bad. The pay is mostly in high-fives and the occasional sticky hug.
So, if you see me wandering around Niskayuna looking slightly dazed, just know I’m not lost—I’m just waiting for my next set of orders. I hear we might be doing an inspection of the local playground later. I’d better make sure I’ve packed the right juice boxes, or I might get a formal write-up.
Managing the Manger
We have all been around long enough to have a boss or a bossy type that we need to relate to on a regular basis. The all wise internet has several suggestions for managing this type.
Have clear responsibilities - even kids do better when their bossiness is focussed to their area. They get to be boss of their room or something like that.
Use “I” statements - when you yell like that, I feel like I don’t want to do that thing.
Play authority games - let the kid be the Librarian or Principle for 15 minutes. Not sure how this translates into your actual boss.
Don’t need to be the authority - It’s very limiting to only be a boss and not a friend, or a coach, or a therapist, or a nurse, or whatever is really needed.