When, therefore, children come with any request, or express any wish, in cases where no serious interests are involved, in deciding upon the answer to be given, the mother should, in general, simply ask herself, not Is it wise?  Will they succeed in it?  Will they enjoy it?  Would I like to do it if I were they?—­but simply, Is there any harm or danger in it?  If not, readily and cordially consent.  But do not announce your decision till after you have heard all that they have to say, if you intend to hear what they have to say at all.

If there are any objections to what the children propose which affect the question in relation to it as a means of amusement for them, you may state them in the way of information for them, after you have given your consent.  In that way you present the difficulties as subjects for their consideration, and not as objections on your part to their plan.  But, however serious the difficulties may be in the way of the children’s accomplishing the object which they have in view, they constitute no objection to their making the attempt, provided that their plans involve no serious harm or damage to themselves, or to any other person or interest.

The Wrong Way.

Two boys, for example, William and James, who have been playing in the yard with their little sister Lucy, come in to their mother with a plan for a fish-pond.  They wish for permission to dig a hole in a corner of the yard and fill it with water, and then to get some fish out of the brook to put into it.

The mother, on hearing the proposal, says at once, without waiting for any explanations,

“Oh no, I would not do that.  It is a very foolish plan.  You will only get yourselves all muddy.  Besides, you can’t catch any fishes to put into it, and if you do, they won’t live.  And then the grass is so thick that you could not get it up to make your hole.”

But William says that they can dig the grass up with their little spades.  They had tried it, and found that they could do so.

And James says that they have already tried catching the fishes, and found that they could do it by means of a long-handled dipper; and Lucy says that they will all be very careful not to get themselves wet and muddy.

“But you’ll get your feet wet standing on the edge of the brook,” says the mother.  “You can’t help it.”

“No, mother,” replies James, “there is a large flat stone that we can stand upon, and so keep our feet perfectly dry.  See!”

So saying, he shows his own feet, which are quite dry.

Thus the discussion goes on; the objections made—­being, as usual in such cases, half of them imaginary ones, brought forward only for effect—­are one after another disposed of, or at least set aside, until at length the mother, as if beaten off her ground after a contest, gives a reluctant and hesitating consent, and the children go away to commence their work only half pleased, and separated in heart and affection, for the time being, from their mother by not finding in her, as they think, any sympathy with them, or disposition to aid them in their pleasures.