No.  Stop it.  Don’t do that.  Leave that alone.  These are four of the most common responses I’ve heard myself offering my son. 

I started with “No” or “No, Bryce.”  You can imagine why I’d say this, right?  He starts eating the window sill or licking the screen or slamming the remote control on the floor.  He eats his mother’s shoes in the closet.  He pulls the tiny rubber covers from behind the doorstops in the bathroom.  There are so many reasons to tell a little boy no.  He responds to the word.  He stops.  He looks at me.  At this point, he’s even stopped smiling that cute little grin that expresses the truth in his mind that he’s really going to get me one day.  When I say, “No,” he stops. 

But I tired of hearing myself saying no.  It made me feel stingy, less generous.  So I changed it up a bit and introduced new vocabulary.  I am, after all, teaching my child words by using them.  I wouldn’t want him limited as he develops his cognitive apparatus.  I don’t want him constrained by one-syllable words.  Hence, the two-syllable, “Stop it.” 

Stop it is very effective for Bryce right now.  He pauses, sometimes in the middle of an act.  I catch him pulling at a cord or as he removes the silver key in the fireplace.  He pushes the dishwasher rack while I’m removing the clean plates or right before I can keep him from the knives.  He stands behind me so I can’t walk away from the sink with his bottle, or with some water, trying to move.  Stop it.  Effective.  He obeys.  This is important.  I will not have a disobedient child in this house.  But “Stop it” sounds hard coming from my lips.  I can’t say it softly. 

So I started using the favorite phrase, “Don’t do that.”  I attach this response as quickly as I can to something the boy has done.  I’m remembering my days in class when I say this.  I’m thinking of Dr. Delaney’s explanation of Pavlov or B.F. Skinner is Psych 360.  He associates his behavior with my response.  “Don’t do that.”  The phrase isn’t as hard as “Stop it” but it’s firm.  He sees my face and gets it.

“Leave that alone” started when the kid started pulling and taking things I didn’t want him to.  Maybe he was pulling the stapler off the desk.  Yanking the laptop battery from a power surge.  Tempting to swipe a pair of glasses, to eat the round cap covering the toilet screw.  Pulling everything out the to-be-recycled bag on the floor under the thermostat.

No.

Stop it.

Don’t do that.

Leave that alone.

I shouldn’t be surprised if and when the boy’s first words are one of these.  Can you think of any other options I can employ for the boy at this point?  I’m happy to add them to my options.