The "I like it" Scale
What I’ve learned from my son’s euphemistic scale of dislike
“I like it,” my son says with a contorted face as he struggles to swallow his bite.
His words and expression don’t add up. He clearly does not like dinner but he can’t bring himself to tell me.
My oldest son is a pleaser. As I watch him grow up and look to me for approval about what he should think and how he feels, I am reminded of what used to be a common dinner exchange.
After getting an “I like it,” I would offer another helping, “Would you like some more?”
“Uh…no thanks, I am ok.”
I tried to preempt these I-like-it-when-I-really-don’t responses by telling him that he wouldn’t offend me if he didn’t actually like dinner. I tried explaining, to no avail, that I was most interested in him learning to express himself regardless of the feeling. But despite these assurances, he couldn’t bring himself to tell me the truth.
After several such instances, we asked him what “I like it” means, and he proceeded to explain his scale of acceptability.
“High high I like it” - favorite food. I will eat it all and quickly. This rating applies to homemade pizza, macaroni and cheese, stromboli & tomato soup and pasta dishes (but only those without onion, garlic, mushrooms or cooked tomatoes).
“High I like it” - not my most favorite, but I am a fan and will eat it willingly.
“Medium I like it” - it’s fine, one helping is sufficient.
“I like it” - I’d rather not have this.
“Low I like it” - I can barely get it down without gagging. Please don’t make this again, now or ever.
Somewhere along the way, my son developed an aversion to expressing his opinion, opting instead to seek approval, and be agreeable. As I often do, I wondered where this behavior came from? How much was nature vs. nurture? Was this an apple, tree sort of situation? What role had I played? As soon as I start pondering, I am barraged by questions:
Have I corrected him too much?
Have I given him the impression that he needs to conform his beliefs to ours?
Have I expressed disappointment when he shares that he doesn’t like something?
Why this lack of confidence?
How is he so different than his brother? (His younger brother has no problem letting me know what he thinks about dinner.)
These questions are helpful only insofar as they encourage me to reflect and become more aware of my own behaviors. If there is something to be learned, I can make a change.
These questions become unhelpful when I dwell, get negative or focus on the past instead of a proactive path forward.
Origins of my son’s habits aside, learning how to express our opinions is an essential art. We want to do so in a way that is kind and remains open to others thinking differently. We want to express how we feel about something, like dinner, honestly and with gratitude. This requires nuance, empathy, self-awareness and emotional intelligence. It can feel vulnerable and uncomfortable, yet I am convinced that we can marry honesty with compassion and express our appreciation for others without compromising our opinions.
As someone who has struggled with this very issue, my goal with my sons is to explore and develop these nuanced skills of self-expression and interpersonal interaction as often as possible and to normalize different preferences.
How?
To quote a favorite from Mo Willems’ Elephant and Piggie book, Watch Me Throw the Ball
It takes skill.
It takes practice.
It takes skill and practice.
And a lot of it.
I expect this to be a slow burn. A first step is to build comfort expressing likes and dislikes about lower-stake items - things that don’t directly involve me or someone he is worried about disappointing. My hope is that we can build his confidence in expressing honest emotions slowly, get comfortable and then build to more personal situations.
I learn so much about how I want to communicate from my kids. Frequently, I’ll hear them say something unexpected, and I wonder, “where did that come from?” Then I hear myself or my husband say that very thing and I have my answer. So often, my kids reflect back what they see in us, making me realize that if we want to see something different, we can model something different.
Remembering his “I like it” scale has given me a fresh idea. We’ll often talk about his scale as funny memory, and he giggles thinking back to this younger version of himself navigating unpleasant dinners. What if I used his scale now as a way to encourage assertive expression? If I sense hesitation or equivocation on a topic, I could say, “Is this an ‘I like it’ situation?” A little chuckle may be just what he needs to admit his true feelings. And how beautiful it would be if his own euphemisms could serve as a tool to set him up for a confident future!
“High I like it!”
I’m going to give it a try.
High high I like it!