It is scary how much a two-and-a-half-year-old does, and doesn't, understand about social interactions. It also seems that his moral development is ahead of his years, and maybe not in a good way. To understand this verbal exchange, you need to know two things. (1) "Firetrucks" is one of John's current favorite video tapes, and (2) Jeremy and I were standing right next to each other during this entire exchange.
John: Mom, can I watch Firetrucks?
Mom: No, John. Finish your breakfast.
[Thoughtful pause.]
John: Dad, can I watch Firetrucks?
Dad: What did Mommy just say?
John [in a petulant voice]: She said no!
Dad: Then, no. Eat your breakfast.
[Longer, more thoughtful pause.]
John: Mom, can I watch Firetrucks?
Mom: No!
John [in an offended, slightly wheedling tone]: Dad said I could!
Monday, January 18, 2010
Saturday, January 16, 2010
How to make your kids safe for the world?
Sometimes it seems like the biggest challenge of parenting is just figuring out when to act, when to listen, and when to sit on your hands.
James seemed to have a really good two weeks over Christmas break. He was happier, more relaxed, kinder to his siblings, on the whole. For the two weeks back at school, he has again been a bit more tense, but I could attribute that to tiredness as much as anything. Everyday when he gets out of school, I ask how his day went, and I get a reply of "Fine," or even an enthusiastic "Great!" So, I assume all is well, for now.
Then, another bedtime bomb. That is what I have come to call them, because they always come out then. He will be sent off to bed, and ask plaintively, "Mom, will you sit with me for a while?" On these nights, he wants to talk. A few nights ago he said, "Mom, my school troubles are returning."
"Oh? What happened?"
"Well, we were all talking at lunch and someone said that she thinks a girl can change the world. I said I agreed with her. Then Sara started laughing and saying that if I think that I must be a girl. So she started calling me 'Chelsea.' Now a bunch of girls are calling me Chelsea."
"Hmm. How do you feel about that?" That is my standard line when I need to buy myself more time. I wonder if that is what shrinks mean when they say it, too?
"Well, it makes me feel bad."
"Well, I am really proud of you for knowing what is right, and speaking up for it. I am sorry to hear that some of your classmates are behaving like this. They are being mean and stupid at the same time. I can't imagine what must be upsetting them that they would choose to act that way, can you?"
Okay, so it wasn't exactly politically correct of me to call 3rd graders mean and stupid, especially in front of my 3rd grader. But... really? I mean, in 2010, do we even have to be debating the question of whether a girl can change the world? And where would kids spout this kind of nonsense unless they are hearing it at home? So, as you can see, I am still pretty irritated by the whole thing. So obviously, at the time, my one stalling question was not enough to get control of my anger before I spoke.
I stewed on this overnight. I debated emailing the teacher about the incident. I really don't want to be a thirty-something-tattletale. And I don't want to be a helicopter parent. But then again, I won't send my kids to a school where there is a popular consensus that a world ruled by some triumvirate of Gingrich, Robertson, & Dobson might not be quite conservative enough.
Of course, I also have a tendency to occasionally fly off the handle; make mountains out of molehills. James came home from school the next day and reported that kids were still calling him Chelsea. I asked how he felt about that. (See, there, I did it again.)
"It's okay, Mom. I just decided that I won't answer them if they call me Chelsea. I will just ignore them unless they call me James."
Okay, well that was good news. I maybe don't have to do anything at all. If James can solve the problem on his own, who am I to meddle? "Good for you, James!"
Later, of course, the doubts set in. Maybe I still need to do something, not for James's sake, but for the sake of the school, and all the kids. Is this a pervasive problem? Or then again, maybe this is just a sign that James has figured out how to play me. If he can tell an upsetting enough story, he can get me to talk to him, long past his bedtime. Maybe he never really cared about getting called Chelsea, but had figured out that this would make a good story to get lots of one-on-one time with Mom.
So, back to the same old questions. When to act, when to listen, when to sit on my hands? Sigh.
James seemed to have a really good two weeks over Christmas break. He was happier, more relaxed, kinder to his siblings, on the whole. For the two weeks back at school, he has again been a bit more tense, but I could attribute that to tiredness as much as anything. Everyday when he gets out of school, I ask how his day went, and I get a reply of "Fine," or even an enthusiastic "Great!" So, I assume all is well, for now.
Then, another bedtime bomb. That is what I have come to call them, because they always come out then. He will be sent off to bed, and ask plaintively, "Mom, will you sit with me for a while?" On these nights, he wants to talk. A few nights ago he said, "Mom, my school troubles are returning."
"Oh? What happened?"
"Well, we were all talking at lunch and someone said that she thinks a girl can change the world. I said I agreed with her. Then Sara started laughing and saying that if I think that I must be a girl. So she started calling me 'Chelsea.' Now a bunch of girls are calling me Chelsea."
"Hmm. How do you feel about that?" That is my standard line when I need to buy myself more time. I wonder if that is what shrinks mean when they say it, too?
"Well, it makes me feel bad."
"Well, I am really proud of you for knowing what is right, and speaking up for it. I am sorry to hear that some of your classmates are behaving like this. They are being mean and stupid at the same time. I can't imagine what must be upsetting them that they would choose to act that way, can you?"
Okay, so it wasn't exactly politically correct of me to call 3rd graders mean and stupid, especially in front of my 3rd grader. But... really? I mean, in 2010, do we even have to be debating the question of whether a girl can change the world? And where would kids spout this kind of nonsense unless they are hearing it at home? So, as you can see, I am still pretty irritated by the whole thing. So obviously, at the time, my one stalling question was not enough to get control of my anger before I spoke.
I stewed on this overnight. I debated emailing the teacher about the incident. I really don't want to be a thirty-something-tattletale. And I don't want to be a helicopter parent. But then again, I won't send my kids to a school where there is a popular consensus that a world ruled by some triumvirate of Gingrich, Robertson, & Dobson might not be quite conservative enough.
Of course, I also have a tendency to occasionally fly off the handle; make mountains out of molehills. James came home from school the next day and reported that kids were still calling him Chelsea. I asked how he felt about that. (See, there, I did it again.)
"It's okay, Mom. I just decided that I won't answer them if they call me Chelsea. I will just ignore them unless they call me James."
Okay, well that was good news. I maybe don't have to do anything at all. If James can solve the problem on his own, who am I to meddle? "Good for you, James!"
Later, of course, the doubts set in. Maybe I still need to do something, not for James's sake, but for the sake of the school, and all the kids. Is this a pervasive problem? Or then again, maybe this is just a sign that James has figured out how to play me. If he can tell an upsetting enough story, he can get me to talk to him, long past his bedtime. Maybe he never really cared about getting called Chelsea, but had figured out that this would make a good story to get lots of one-on-one time with Mom.
So, back to the same old questions. When to act, when to listen, when to sit on my hands? Sigh.
When science beckons, you must answer the call
Maggie emerged from a quiet hour of playing in her room and announced, "Mom, I want to do an experiment. I need to have... 4 big blocks and 10 popsicle sticks."
"Okay..."
"And the experiment is, I want to test what it would be like if we didn't have joints."
A few minutes later, she returned with the supplies and wanted to know how she could attach them over her elbows, knees, and fingers.
"Okay..."
"And the experiment is, I want to test what it would be like if we didn't have joints."
A few minutes later, she returned with the supplies and wanted to know how she could attach them over her elbows, knees, and fingers.
Saturday, January 9, 2010
Sibling love
John walked by Maggie saying "Bang! Bang! Bang!"
Maggie asked what he was shooting at. I couldn't quite catch more of his answer than "Blah blah blah blah," but Maggie apparently understood and clarified his response, "Oh, you were attacking the bad guys that were invading my room?"
"Yeah!" was John's enthusiastic confirmation of this. Maggie responded in an earnest (if sappy voice), "I love you so much. You are a good little brother. No matter what happens, I love you."
Maggie asked what he was shooting at. I couldn't quite catch more of his answer than "Blah blah blah blah," but Maggie apparently understood and clarified his response, "Oh, you were attacking the bad guys that were invading my room?"
"Yeah!" was John's enthusiastic confirmation of this. Maggie responded in an earnest (if sappy voice), "I love you so much. You are a good little brother. No matter what happens, I love you."
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