Circumstances, Cases in Point, and Incidents

In the world inhabited by Adam McFadden the simple two letter word "no" addressed a multitude of interactions within a multitude of contexts for a multitude of intentions. In the months when the role of parent had replaced the role of eldest brother, he inadvertently discovered the multipurpose power those two powerhouse letters, n and o, could yield.

To begin with, uttering a simple No! with annoyance meant that whatever plan had just been communicated bordered on the ridiculous and should find itself instantly aborted. To heighten the effect, further explanation generally followed to drive home the absurdity.

The past weekend three particular circumstances necessitated Adam pull out the No! in reference to inconceivable actions initiated by his brotherly little darlings.

Circumstance number one starred his eleven year old, Crane, who generally displayed a cooperative and pleasant nature.

Generally he did.

Most of the time he would.

Nonetheless, this particular day Crane's motive appeared to be to destroy Adam's sanity through the visiting and revisiting of the same personal, demanded request. The repetition began from the time the sixth grader stepped off the school bus until homework time finished.

"I never get to do anything I ever want to do!" Crane insisted, stomping from the table to the sink where Adam finished drying the supper dishes. "Ever."

"Not true," Adam contradicted.

"And anyway, you're the one who put me on restriction all those weeks," Crane scowled. "And you snatched away anything fun for me all that time and now it's still happening."

Refusing to lose his temper Adam agreed, "True."

Crane paused a second to gather his thoughts. "Why can't my friends and I camp out? Huh? Everyone else gets to do whatever they want around here."

"Scoot to the right," Adam directed as he juggled a stack of plates. "I need that cabinet."

Crane stayed put, though he turned his body sideways so Adam could access the cabinet.

"Say, Adam!" Crane demanded, his voice rising with frustration.

Adam closed the cabinet door and turned deliberately to regard his brother. "One."

Crane threw his hands into the air dramatically and demanded, "Why are you counting now? I haven't even done anything for you to count!"

"One," Adam explained as he grabbed a stack of bowls to stock, "one is for that disrespectful tone of voice I just heard."

Angry blue eyes met his brother's calm dark ones. Crane crossed his arms across his chest and kicked the leg of the chair nearest him.

"That ratcheted you to two, Little Man," Adam warned him firmly.

Frustrated, Crane contended, "Well, I don't even care!"

Adam drained the sink as he fought to hold his temper in check and to keep a calm perspective. Ninety nine percent of the time the child caused him no trouble. Perhaps this behavior hinted at an early pre-adolescent stab at angst. Still, Adam felt confident little Crane would mature into a mellow, laid back adult in a few years.

"Crane, I'm done with the issue. You already had my permission to invite Ryan and Tyler-your friends- to spend the night Friday. You will not have permission to camp out in the yard this weekend. I have explained more than once that the weather is still too chilly and the ground is still too cold."

The sixth grader snapped, "People camp out in the cold all the time!"

"No!" Adam snapped. He placed both hands on Crane's shoulders and threatened, "My answer is no. I'm finished discussing camping and you will regret it if you bring the issue up again."

"Camping never…"

"Three," Adam announced firmly, pivoting Crane so that he faced the living room. "March up those stairs straight to your room, Crane. You have earned yourself room restriction for the rest of the evening."

"I…"

"Now!"

Crane shrugged out from his brother's hold and stomped to the stairs.

All the way to his room Crane left his pout firmly in place.

Adam watched the child climb the steps and shook his head in bewilderment. It was situations like this that forced him to practice controlling his temper.

In yet another incident requiring a yelled No! to demand the termination of a ridiculous action Adam jogged down the stairs one Sunday morning to discover Ford scaling the living room curtains.

For a moment his mind refused to process the visual evidence. His little kindergarten outlaw had actually braced his feet against the wall as he climbed the drapes. Ford's current position put him halfway between the ceiling and the floor.

"No!" Adam yelled as his adrenaline surged. "Ford, stop!" Visions of the drapery rod buckling and the baby crashing onto his head on the hardwood floor flashed before him.

The kindergartner froze in place at the command but relaxed to grin gleefully at his brother. "See me, Adam? Look how high I can go!"

"No, no stop!" Adam repeated, reaching up to grab the child around the waist. "Right now! Stop before you fall. What did you hope to accomplish with that stunt?"

Ford scowled and struggled to squirm his body away from Adam's grip. "Let go of me."

"Absolutely not," Adam assured him. "Turn loose of the curtains, Ford. I've got you."

His baby brother balked. "I just now got all the way up here nearly to the top and I don't want to turn loose!"

By standing on his tiptoes Adam managed to pry the small fingers from the drapery lifeline. Ford kicked his heels into Adam's ribs and strained his whole body to elude his brother's grip.

Adam clutched him firmly, though, and swung the child over to the sofa where he plopped him onto a cushion. "Never ever pull a trick like that one. You could have fallen and cracked your head or broken a bone like Evan."

Clearly angry, Ford drummed his heels against the sofa frame. "Why can't I practice firemen tricks? I never fell and I wouldn't get hurt."

Adam pushed his brother's small feet to the side to stop him from further kicking the upholstery. "Firemen do not climb curtains. They climb ladders."

To demonstrate his opinion of that response Ford threw himself onto his back and decided to brood.

Adam bit the corner of his lip. Even angry, Ford managed to look cute. "Listen, you weigh too much for curtains to hold you or for the curtain rods to hold you. Regardless, you have no business climbing anything inside this house." Adam added sternly, "I had better never find you trying anything that dangerous again."

Along with Crane and Ford, days later another circumstance of responding to a ridiculous situation with No! involved Daniel, who even at seven already possessed strong self-confidence.

Apparently while the boys played together near the barn over the weekend they opted to spend time enjoying the daring game, that challenge world over where one participant dared another to perform some activity or deed.

Already they had engaged in progressively harder tests, one of which required balancing along the top rail of the fence while walking a certain distance.

With his turn Evan noted one of their cows chewing grass contentedly across the field. A brilliant idea followed and for the next dare, he demanded Daniel climb onto the cow's back.

Daniel decided to one up Evan and raced to the barn. He re-appeared half carrying and half dragging a saddle and announced he would saddle the cow to cushion his bottom.

Evan and Ford pitched in to help but the trio's united attempts to saddle the poor cow backfired.

The cow's demeanor declined the moment the kids poked and prodded her.

Agitated, she reacted by beginning to stomp and swished wildly.

Luckily Adam rounded the barn and witnessed the boys struggling to harness the poor animal. He shouted, "No! Get that saddle away from the cow!"

Evan and Ford backed away at once but Daniel stood his ground.

Adam jogged to the trio and demanded an explanation.

Two of them cooperated.

Ford and Evan described the circumstances and sheepishly agreed with Adam that the stunt probably would not have ended well.

Adam sent the two younger boys to play in the front yard and directed Daniel to return the saddle to the barn.

Daniel decided to argue with his brother and his brown eyes snapped with anger. "You're mean!" the little villain accused, "and you made me lose the dare and now I'm mad! I didn't even do anything wrong."

"Let me explain something to you," Adam worked to control his temper. "Saddles and cows have nothing in common and the three of you would have ended up hurt. Besides that, you had no business taking that saddle away from the barn or helping yourself to the saddle in the first place. Did you ask?"

Daniel opened his mouth to extend the argument but Adam yanked him against him and covered the child's mouth. "No, Daniel, not another word from you about this or about anything else. Return that saddle right now and then take yourself to the house. Your playtime just ended for the day."

Adam removed his hand and pointed towards the barn. Daniel's eyes filled and he regarded his brother unhappily, but he followed the instructions nonetheless. Adam watched him struggle to return the saddle with a grudging respect for the child's perseverance. The saddle must have weighed fifteen or twenty pounds, roughly half of Daniel's weight.

So three little darlings and three unexpected circumstances reinforced to Adam a simple No! bellowed in annoyance would effectively communicate his opinion of really foolish decisions.

Of course, No, stop! always insinuated imminent danger hovered frighteningly near the participant. With six brothers as guilty parties Adam had managed to yell that particular response on a number of occasions.

He would yell first and attempt to clamp some control on his rising panic.

A case in point featured six year old Evan as the culprit. Several months before Adam had meandered out of the kitchen clutching a load of laundry, only to discover the first grader climbing over the upstairs bannister rail.

Adam's eyes widened at the danger and his heart began to pound. "No, stop Evan! Freeze!"

Evan halted his actions and regarded his brother quizzically before repositioning himself to straddle the rail.

Adam called frantically. "No, don't move now- you can fall onto the living room floor!"

Evan glanced down the drop to the bottom story of the house and grinned, "No, I want to swing down and jump the rest of the way, Adam."

"No, stop!" Adam dropped the laundry basket and vaulted up the stairs. Before Evan could move he yanked his brother off of the rail and clutched him tightly against his chest.

Evan squirmed for release but Adam needed time to reassure himself that no harm had occurred. Once his breathing regulated and his heart slowed he turned the first grader loose.

Then he ensured Evan regretted his decision to scale the railing.

Daniel terrified him just as badly a month later. Crane raced inside to inform him Daniel was about to jump straight from a tree branch onto the roof of the house.

With visions of Evan's broken arm propelling him Adam raced outside.

Crane pointed upwards and he discovered Daniel balancing upright on a branch, poised to jump.

Luckily, Adam's "No, stop Daniel!" effectively ended the stunt. Though disappointed, the second grader chose not to argue.

And like Evan, Daniel decided not to repeat the trick once Adam finished reprimanding him.

Sometimes though, Adam found himself unable to deflect the danger ahead of time. One upsetting event occurred one Saturday when the family had gone shopping in Murphys. Right outside one of the stores something caught Guthrie's eye. He stooped down, fascinated with a yellow and black object which fluttered near the edge of the store building. Adam glanced over too late to stop him and despite yelling "Guthrie, no, stop! Don't touch it!" the toddler grabbed a yellow jacket in his little fist.

Adam felt horrible, and Guthrie's screams when the wasp stung him made the entire family grimace in sympathy. Adam cuddled and caressed but it took the toddler nearly a half hour to calm down to shuddery breaths.

Of course Adam also appreciated the power of No when the word served as a model of conversational brevity. At times he relied upon that single word to succinctly and successfully cut off further juvenile observations or complaints.

Brian campaigned one particular afternoon and evening to have his curfew extended by an hour. Finally exhausted with the repetitive argument Adam threatened, "No, once again, the answer is no, Brian, and if you ask me again in the next six months I will lower your curfew by an hour instead. No."

In response to yet another incident a clear and decisive No put a stop to Ford's protests that a second bowl of ice cream wouldn't make him sick to his stomach.

It would.

Adam had witnessed it happen himself.

Last, a simple, strategically inserted no silenced Evan on the subject of skipping baths on non-school nights.