This morning Craig and I were still sleeping when Isaac woke up at 7:10. Through the baby monitor we heard him calling out, calm yet insistent: "I want Dad or Mama to come get you from your room and bring you into the big bed in Mama and Dad bedroom."
Well, it pays to be precise -- and thorough -- when specifying what you want. Although a simple "Mama!" would have accomplished the same thing.
He has picked up a few phrases of precision from his parents as well. Isaac sometimes says that an illustration in a book is "supposed to be a picture of a mouse," or whatever. I'm not sure he really understands what "supposed to be" means, because sometimes he seems to use it as just another way to say "is." But I'm sure he learned it from either Craig or me, as we are both vocal in our criticisms of picture book illustrations that don't live up to our standards. (Hey, if it doesn't look quite like a mouse, and he asks me what it is, I'm not going to say, "It's a mouse.")
He also says, when informed that his meal is ready, "Isaac doesn't seem to want any lunch." Perhaps he means that although he is hungry, by God you can't tell him when it's time to eat! Actually, I'm not sure he knows what "seems to" means either. But he's ready to talk now, so he'll just have to figure the language out as he goes along.
I hope he continues to take linguistic chances when he's older. If you're used to getting everything right, it's easy to get intimidated and stop using interesting new words -- you're afraid someone is going to notice you've gotten it wrong and correct you. I hope he makes the leap of faith necessary to try new intellectual challenges, even though he will most certainly get things wrong along the way.
Showing posts with label temperament. Show all posts
Showing posts with label temperament. Show all posts
Tuesday, December 9, 2014
Games Isaac plays
In addition to all his regular favorites -- tools, vehicles, kitchen gear, and books -- Isaac has recently developed some new games:
"Smell some soaps"
About a month ago, Isaac and I went to a health food store and picked out scented soap products; two weeks later we returned with Craig and picked out some more. Since then, the process of examining soaps -- or, as Isaac calls it, "smell some soaps" -- has become a favorite game.
Isaac will approach me with a bottle or two of shampoo under his arm. Then he says, "May I please smell that soap?" This, you understand, is my line.
"May I please smell that soap?" I say obligingly. He unscrews the cap of the bottle and presents it to me. I take a whiff, and say, "Mmm, smells like apricot." He screws the cap back on again.
Then he says, "Will you open the cap for me?" This, you realize, is my line.
"Will you open the cap for me?" I say obediently. He does so, and again holds out the bottle. I lean over and take another whiff.
He usually plays this game with my apricot shampoo and conditioner, but sometimes he likes to go around to all the bathrooms until he has collected quite an assortment of bottles. Sometimes he'll use his play shopping cart to gather them, and then he lines them up on the coffee table. After just a few minutes of this game -- I've been required to smell apricot, grapefruit, tea tree oil, coconut, and lemon scents -- my nose rebels, and I try to pretend to smell.
"Build some funny vehicles"
For Christmas in 2006, Isaac's paternal grandparents gave him some Lego-style vehicles (they're technically called Mega-Bloks). The body of the vehicle snaps onto the chassis in two components for mix-and-match fun -- you have a choice of bulldozer cab, truck cab, backhoe back, dump truck back, or cement mixer back. There are also some plain blocks which fit onto the chassis.
For an entire year, Isaac used these toys only as whole vehicles. He didn't have the dexterity to remove the components himself, and he didn't appreciate the humor when an adult created, say, a cement truck with a bulldozer blade. But suddenly this December he discovered he could remove the component blocks himself.
He also discovered the toy's humorous possibilities, and very quickly he developed a game he calls "build some funny vehicles." Sometimes this means a two-cabbed vehicle, or one with no cab at all, or (his favorite) one with a bunch of extra blocks inserted between the chassis and the components to make the vehicle tall and off-center.
After he constructs a vehicle, he holds it up so I can see it, and he says, "What?!" He says it in exaggerated disbelief, with five drawn-out syllables, more like, "Wha-a-a-a-t?!" This, you gather, is my line.
"What?!" I say obediently. Sometimes he also prompts me to say, "That's the funniest truck I've ever seen!"
This activity can go on for 20 minutes, which makes it an excellent game for me to play while blogging or checking email. Often he builds the same vehicle over and over again, because there are a finite number of components. I say "What?!" every single time, though.
"Mama needs a hug"
Isaac puts on a sad face and says in a pitiful little voice, "Mama needs a hug." This, you comprehend, is my line.
"Mama needs a hug," I say obligingly. I also use a pitiful little voice and put on a sad face. Isaac gives me a big hug, and I cheer up immediately. (Wouldn't you?)
There are variations on this game, most notably "Mama needs a kiss." I tried to encourage Isaac's interest in playing "Mama needs a nap" one afternoon when I was lying down, but he kept hugging me and sleep was impossible.
- - - - -
All of these are tightly -- if minimally -- scripted games, where the words spoken seldom vary, and where the words are equal in importance to the props and activities. I can't help but wonder what this says about Isaac's personality.
"Smell some soaps"
About a month ago, Isaac and I went to a health food store and picked out scented soap products; two weeks later we returned with Craig and picked out some more. Since then, the process of examining soaps -- or, as Isaac calls it, "smell some soaps" -- has become a favorite game.
Isaac will approach me with a bottle or two of shampoo under his arm. Then he says, "May I please smell that soap?" This, you understand, is my line.
"May I please smell that soap?" I say obligingly. He unscrews the cap of the bottle and presents it to me. I take a whiff, and say, "Mmm, smells like apricot." He screws the cap back on again.
Then he says, "Will you open the cap for me?" This, you realize, is my line.
"Will you open the cap for me?" I say obediently. He does so, and again holds out the bottle. I lean over and take another whiff.
He usually plays this game with my apricot shampoo and conditioner, but sometimes he likes to go around to all the bathrooms until he has collected quite an assortment of bottles. Sometimes he'll use his play shopping cart to gather them, and then he lines them up on the coffee table. After just a few minutes of this game -- I've been required to smell apricot, grapefruit, tea tree oil, coconut, and lemon scents -- my nose rebels, and I try to pretend to smell.
"Build some funny vehicles"
For Christmas in 2006, Isaac's paternal grandparents gave him some Lego-style vehicles (they're technically called Mega-Bloks). The body of the vehicle snaps onto the chassis in two components for mix-and-match fun -- you have a choice of bulldozer cab, truck cab, backhoe back, dump truck back, or cement mixer back. There are also some plain blocks which fit onto the chassis.
For an entire year, Isaac used these toys only as whole vehicles. He didn't have the dexterity to remove the components himself, and he didn't appreciate the humor when an adult created, say, a cement truck with a bulldozer blade. But suddenly this December he discovered he could remove the component blocks himself.
He also discovered the toy's humorous possibilities, and very quickly he developed a game he calls "build some funny vehicles." Sometimes this means a two-cabbed vehicle, or one with no cab at all, or (his favorite) one with a bunch of extra blocks inserted between the chassis and the components to make the vehicle tall and off-center.
After he constructs a vehicle, he holds it up so I can see it, and he says, "What?!" He says it in exaggerated disbelief, with five drawn-out syllables, more like, "Wha-a-a-a-t?!" This, you gather, is my line.
"What?!" I say obediently. Sometimes he also prompts me to say, "That's the funniest truck I've ever seen!"
This activity can go on for 20 minutes, which makes it an excellent game for me to play while blogging or checking email. Often he builds the same vehicle over and over again, because there are a finite number of components. I say "What?!" every single time, though.
"Mama needs a hug"
Isaac puts on a sad face and says in a pitiful little voice, "Mama needs a hug." This, you comprehend, is my line.
"Mama needs a hug," I say obligingly. I also use a pitiful little voice and put on a sad face. Isaac gives me a big hug, and I cheer up immediately. (Wouldn't you?)
There are variations on this game, most notably "Mama needs a kiss." I tried to encourage Isaac's interest in playing "Mama needs a nap" one afternoon when I was lying down, but he kept hugging me and sleep was impossible.
- - - - -
All of these are tightly -- if minimally -- scripted games, where the words spoken seldom vary, and where the words are equal in importance to the props and activities. I can't help but wonder what this says about Isaac's personality.
Monday, December 8, 2014
"Warm and dry"
It's winter, which means the weather has been either (1) cold or (2) raining. By "cold" I mean highs in the 40s; by "raining" I mean water falling continuously from the sky from dawn until dusk. When it's dry, it's too cold to play outside; when it's wet ... well, you get the idea. We've had a few opportunities to play outside, but not many.
Because we're Californians, we only have two season's worth of clothes -- warm and cool -- so Isaac and I are basically facing the rain in our autumn clothing. And because we're Californians, we always park in the driveway -- we don't even have a garage. When we have to go somewhere, we rush out to the car with our cotton sweatshirt hoods pulled over our heads, and we try not to step in the massive puddles in our sneakers.
Isaac's car seat is installed in the center of the back seat of our station wagon, so once he climbs up into it, I can kneel on the back seat and shut the door behind me while I buckle him in. But all too often he dawdles while climbing into the car, investigates the toys lying on the floor, or sits down in the back seat and declares he's riding there. Meanwhile, I am standing in the driveway getting rained on. About three weeks ago I got upset and hollered that I was getting wet and cold, and wouldn't he hurry up and get in his seat! In the end I had to pick him up, all 28-odd pounds of him, and bodily insert him into the car seat.
This made a big impression on him, although not a helpful one. Now when it's raining and I'm trying to buckle his seatbelt, he reaches up and grabs my head with both arms. He pulls my head down against his chest, and croons, "I'm keeping Mama warm and dry. Waaaarm and drrrry!"
Meanwhile, I can't see to fasten his seatbelt, and my lower back is exposed to the cold and wet. He's got me in a surprisingly strong headlock, and I can't even get free to close the door behind me.
"Yes, thank you," I say, sounding muffled, as my mouth is pressed against his chest. "I am warm and dry. Very nice. Now let me go so I can fasten your seatbelt, please."
I'm so ungrateful.
Because we're Californians, we only have two season's worth of clothes -- warm and cool -- so Isaac and I are basically facing the rain in our autumn clothing. And because we're Californians, we always park in the driveway -- we don't even have a garage. When we have to go somewhere, we rush out to the car with our cotton sweatshirt hoods pulled over our heads, and we try not to step in the massive puddles in our sneakers.
Isaac's car seat is installed in the center of the back seat of our station wagon, so once he climbs up into it, I can kneel on the back seat and shut the door behind me while I buckle him in. But all too often he dawdles while climbing into the car, investigates the toys lying on the floor, or sits down in the back seat and declares he's riding there. Meanwhile, I am standing in the driveway getting rained on. About three weeks ago I got upset and hollered that I was getting wet and cold, and wouldn't he hurry up and get in his seat! In the end I had to pick him up, all 28-odd pounds of him, and bodily insert him into the car seat.
This made a big impression on him, although not a helpful one. Now when it's raining and I'm trying to buckle his seatbelt, he reaches up and grabs my head with both arms. He pulls my head down against his chest, and croons, "I'm keeping Mama warm and dry. Waaaarm and drrrry!"
Meanwhile, I can't see to fasten his seatbelt, and my lower back is exposed to the cold and wet. He's got me in a surprisingly strong headlock, and I can't even get free to close the door behind me.
"Yes, thank you," I say, sounding muffled, as my mouth is pressed against his chest. "I am warm and dry. Very nice. Now let me go so I can fasten your seatbelt, please."
I'm so ungrateful.
Sunday, December 7, 2014
Trucks, trucks, trucks
So you know Isaac likes vehicles. To your left is the cover of a book we've checked out of the library on many occasions, and the title says it all -- trucks, trucks, trucks.The book is about a little boy who, while pretending his toy trucks are real, is depicted as actually driving them. The author has used the theme of imaginary play in other books as well, including "Fire Truck," which we've checked out of the library several times, and "Ballerina," which we had never checked out.
And why not? I asked myself that last weekend while I was at work at the library, and I didn't have a good answer. So I brought it home.
Isaac immediately wanted me to read it to him, and he listened to it intently, as he does with all new books. And he has asked to hear it again several times since then, which is also typical. But when I read it to him today, for some reason we ended up looking at the back inside flap of the book jacket. On the flap were several small pictures of the author's other books, including "Trucks, Trucks, Trucks" and "Fire Truck."
"Look at that!" Isaac said with astonishment. He pulled the book onto his lap to get a closer look. "There are little trucks there!" He studied the back flap for about five times as long as we had spent reading the book itself. Then I saw the real contrast between the polite interest he gave to the book about dance and the passionate devotion he felt for the book about vehicles -- even though it was only a picture of its cover.
- - - - -
I'm selling Izzy short here. He doesn't know anything about dance, after all, and he knows a lot about vehicles. The book about dance is also intended for kids who are slightly older than he is. And he truly loves all sorts of books, not just ones about vehicles. One of his current favorites is a very emotional book about a girl who temporarily loses a beloved balloon ("Emily's Balloon" by Komako Sakai). And of the ten books he has requested I read to him today, only three were about vehicles.
Saturday, December 6, 2014
Noise annoys
"No more noise. Turn off."
This is what Isaac said eight months ago while he was playing with a friend's toy dump truck. It was a rather noisy truck -- it was operated by remote control, and different buttons made engine noises, honked the horn, made an air brake sound, and, most notably, played a raucous heavy metal song.
When I asked Isaac if he liked playing with the truck, he said, "Big yellow dump truck play music. Big dump truck too loud. Little dump truck more better."
Ironically, he received a similar dump truck for Christmas, although he seems to have outgrown his distaste for it. He likes to play with it now, at any rate, although he doesn't spend a lot of time pushing the buttons on the remote control.
He has never been a big fan of loud noises (although he can readily overcome this hesitation under certain circumstances, as when his Opa offers to take him for a ride on the wheel loader). He has been nervous about the vacuum cleaner for nearly his entire life, but in the last two or three weeks he has become positively terrified of select household appliances. I took out the food processor a few weeks ago, and at the very sight of it -- before I even set it down on the counter! -- he began crying. I had to put him in his room before using it, and even then he cried so hard that his entire face became covered in red blotches -- including his nose, which I had never seen happen before.
Every single day he says, "I don't like the food processor. Or the coffee grinder. Or the garbage disposal. I don't like loud things." Unfortunately he's been adding to this list. Today he said, "Or the coffee maker. Or the microwave."
"Really?" I said. "The microwave doesn't make that much noise."
"It's sort of loud," he said.
- - - - -
He's working through it, though. As he runs his toy vacuum, he says things like, "Sorry, Mama. I have to vacuum. It'll be okay." So then I pretend I'm afraid of the vacuum, which he seems to enjoy. He and Craig have a similar game where Isaac uses a pretend coffee grinder and Craig pretends to be scared of it. And today Isaac told me that one of his alter egos, Loader Driver, actually likes the coffee grinder.
- - - - -
I don't think I've mentioned Loader Driver before. He's Isaac's grown-up persona, the one who likes spicy foods and shaves, as opposed to Loopy, who is often "just a little puppy" and needs to be babied.
This is what Isaac said eight months ago while he was playing with a friend's toy dump truck. It was a rather noisy truck -- it was operated by remote control, and different buttons made engine noises, honked the horn, made an air brake sound, and, most notably, played a raucous heavy metal song.
When I asked Isaac if he liked playing with the truck, he said, "Big yellow dump truck play music. Big dump truck too loud. Little dump truck more better."
Ironically, he received a similar dump truck for Christmas, although he seems to have outgrown his distaste for it. He likes to play with it now, at any rate, although he doesn't spend a lot of time pushing the buttons on the remote control.
He has never been a big fan of loud noises (although he can readily overcome this hesitation under certain circumstances, as when his Opa offers to take him for a ride on the wheel loader). He has been nervous about the vacuum cleaner for nearly his entire life, but in the last two or three weeks he has become positively terrified of select household appliances. I took out the food processor a few weeks ago, and at the very sight of it -- before I even set it down on the counter! -- he began crying. I had to put him in his room before using it, and even then he cried so hard that his entire face became covered in red blotches -- including his nose, which I had never seen happen before.
Every single day he says, "I don't like the food processor. Or the coffee grinder. Or the garbage disposal. I don't like loud things." Unfortunately he's been adding to this list. Today he said, "Or the coffee maker. Or the microwave."
"Really?" I said. "The microwave doesn't make that much noise."
"It's sort of loud," he said.
- - - - -
He's working through it, though. As he runs his toy vacuum, he says things like, "Sorry, Mama. I have to vacuum. It'll be okay." So then I pretend I'm afraid of the vacuum, which he seems to enjoy. He and Craig have a similar game where Isaac uses a pretend coffee grinder and Craig pretends to be scared of it. And today Isaac told me that one of his alter egos, Loader Driver, actually likes the coffee grinder.
- - - - -
I don't think I've mentioned Loader Driver before. He's Isaac's grown-up persona, the one who likes spicy foods and shaves, as opposed to Loopy, who is often "just a little puppy" and needs to be babied.
Friday, December 5, 2014
Cataloging
These days Isaac wants to classify everything, to sort it into categories, to define its parameters. I'm not sure if this is a typical toddler attempt to understand the world, or if he simply has a logical mind. (His parents are a scientist and a librarian, after all.)
Here are a few of Isaac's recent remarks, and a little background on them:
Here are a few of Isaac's recent remarks, and a little background on them:
"Is this a plant or a weed?" (This is a question I'm always glad to hear, as he's been helping me pull weeds in the garden.)
"A tangerine is a citrus fruit." (That seems pretty self-explanatory.)
"Is Wilder a boy or a girl?" (His good friend Jasper just got a new baby brother.)
"Loader Driver must be a woman, because he wears make-up." (I am glad that he knows women can operate heavy machinery, and amused that his alter ego is sometimes female [but still uses a masculine pronoun], but I did explain that some men do wear make-up, and that not all women do.)
"Milk from Mama is a fluid!" (He sat up from nursing and made this announcement, clearly excited about his discovery, several weeks after the urgent care doctor had told us to give him plenty of fluids during his first bout of croup.)
"Luke has two daddies and no mama." (He found this upsetting at first, and he even suggested that Luke also had two mamas, but then I explained that Luke doesn't actually need a mama, having a perfectly good family that loves him.)
"Wool shirts have to go to the dry cleaners." (At first he said that plaid shirts have to go to the dry cleaners, but then Craig explained that not all of his plaid shirts are wool [although all of his wool shirts are plaid].)
Wednesday, December 3, 2014
Driving
Whenever I go too long without posting, I feel like I should offer a treat to my readers. So here's a photo taken a few weeks ago during an outing to the Oakland Zoo.I was a little uncertain about letting Isaac try this ride -- I wasn't sure that he fully understood that he would have to ride alone, and I thought he might get scared once the ride started.* (He likes to sit on the train kiddie ride at our local hardware store, for instance, but he refuses to let us put a quarter in it because he doesn't like when it rocks back and forth in place and makes noise.)
But I need not have worried. Isaac went on the car ride four times in a row, and he would have ridden it all day long if I hadn't insisted that we go home for lunch. He chose a blue Mustang for his first ride, and then he moved on to the orange Corvette you see in this photo, a fire engine, and a purple hot rod.
Isaac had a wonderful time, but it was clear that he took his "driving" very seriously. At first when he drove by I called out his name and waved to him, because I thought he looked a little grim, but I guess he didn't need reassurance because he didn't even turn to look at me. He kept his hands firmly on the wheel, his eyes fixed on the road, and he even seemed to be "steering" in the right direction. So he didn't smile while he was driving -- but when he got off the ride, he smiled a lot.
- - - - -
It reminded me of when I was in elementary school and "drove" in the Autorama at the Santa Cruz Beach Boardwalk. Even though I knew it was only a ride, I was still overwhelmed by the power I wielded from behind the wheel. I never really enjoyed it, because I was afraid that if I made a mistake or if I stopped paying attention to the road, the car would crash. But the Autorama cars had actual gas pedals, if I recall, and their steering wheels really did work! The wheels of the cars straddled a single metal track, so if you didn't steer quite right, your tires would keep banging against it. And if you accidentally let up on the gas, the car would slow down (although not to a stop, I think) and other cars would end up tailgating you. I found it all quite stressful.
If you can't quite picture the ride, here's a (kind of boring) video of a little girl who seems to be enjoying it more than I ever did:
- - - - -
* Edited to add: Not that I feel the need to completely protect him from being scared, which would be impossible anyway, but his friend Jasper once got so freaked out on this ride that they had to stop it to let him off. I wanted to avoid that, if possible!
Especially perfect
Isaac has been perfect at every age, but he's especially perfect now. Craig said this the other night, and I couldn't agree more. Two and a half seems to be the perfect age.
I had been saying how wonderful Isaac has been lately, how loving and curious and open and funny and eager to learn. I had also been saying how sad I was, because Isaac is bound to change soon, and then he'll be in some other stage I won't find quite as appealing. Then Craig pointed out that I'd been saying this ever since Isaac was a tiny baby! As he grows, I always expect I'm going to miss the stage he has just left, that I'll end up mourning some perfect past moment, and you know what? It hasn't happened yet. But it's bound to happen eventually -- isn't Isaac going to start going downhill soon? He can't keep getting more and more perfect, can he?
Here's an example of a stage I know I will miss. Isaac has been very affectionate his entire life, but his verbal expressions of love have become more frequent. The other night I was getting ready to put him to bed, and he decided to turn the tables. He had me lie down in his bed, and then he proceeded to tuck me in. He put his arms around me, rested his head next to mine on the pillow, and crooned, "Time for bed, my Mommity-mom." When I protested that I didn't want to go to bed, he said, "You have to go to bed. You can play more tomorrow." Then he tried to rock me a little bit, again saying soothingly, "Time for bed, my little Mommity-mom. Even when you make a mistake, I still love you."
He's not going to be doing that when he's 13, I know. I may not even hear him say "I love you" for ten years. I'm sure I'll miss hearing it, but even more I'll miss him thinking that I am so completely awesome! Right now we're a mutual adoration society. I guess that won't change for a few more years, right?
- - - - -
I feel didactic and obvious whenever I tell Isaac that we still love him even when he makes a mistake or does something wrong, but apparently it has made a positive impression on him. He's got some perfectionist tendencies, and he gets worried about making mistakes, so I know it's important for him to hear. This is also why I don't want to discipline him with techniques that could appear to be removal of my affection, like solitary time-outs or angry words.
- - - - -
Isaac became especially perfect when he was around 14 months old. Oh, sure, he was wonderful and perfect and adorable before then, but that was then my enjoyment of him reached a new height, and it has only grown since then. (This was also when he learned to walk and his naps consolidated into a single long afternoon nap -- perhaps not coincidental to my happiness.)
I had been saying how wonderful Isaac has been lately, how loving and curious and open and funny and eager to learn. I had also been saying how sad I was, because Isaac is bound to change soon, and then he'll be in some other stage I won't find quite as appealing. Then Craig pointed out that I'd been saying this ever since Isaac was a tiny baby! As he grows, I always expect I'm going to miss the stage he has just left, that I'll end up mourning some perfect past moment, and you know what? It hasn't happened yet. But it's bound to happen eventually -- isn't Isaac going to start going downhill soon? He can't keep getting more and more perfect, can he?
Here's an example of a stage I know I will miss. Isaac has been very affectionate his entire life, but his verbal expressions of love have become more frequent. The other night I was getting ready to put him to bed, and he decided to turn the tables. He had me lie down in his bed, and then he proceeded to tuck me in. He put his arms around me, rested his head next to mine on the pillow, and crooned, "Time for bed, my Mommity-mom." When I protested that I didn't want to go to bed, he said, "You have to go to bed. You can play more tomorrow." Then he tried to rock me a little bit, again saying soothingly, "Time for bed, my little Mommity-mom. Even when you make a mistake, I still love you."
He's not going to be doing that when he's 13, I know. I may not even hear him say "I love you" for ten years. I'm sure I'll miss hearing it, but even more I'll miss him thinking that I am so completely awesome! Right now we're a mutual adoration society. I guess that won't change for a few more years, right?
- - - - -
I feel didactic and obvious whenever I tell Isaac that we still love him even when he makes a mistake or does something wrong, but apparently it has made a positive impression on him. He's got some perfectionist tendencies, and he gets worried about making mistakes, so I know it's important for him to hear. This is also why I don't want to discipline him with techniques that could appear to be removal of my affection, like solitary time-outs or angry words.
- - - - -
Isaac became especially perfect when he was around 14 months old. Oh, sure, he was wonderful and perfect and adorable before then, but that was then my enjoyment of him reached a new height, and it has only grown since then. (This was also when he learned to walk and his naps consolidated into a single long afternoon nap -- perhaps not coincidental to my happiness.)
Monday, December 1, 2014
Structured activity
On Monday, Isaac will be starting a new class -- we'll be taking Music Together once a week for the next ten weeks.
It's been a long time since he's been enrolled in a structured activity. In fact, he's only ever taken two classes, which is extremely unusual for his peer group. Some of the kids he plays with are in preschool already, but even those who aren't in school take classes: art, music, sports, foreign language, science, and so forth. And now we're joining the trend.
Right before Isaac turned one year old, we tried a Kindermusik class, but I didn't like the songs and Isaac didn't seem impressed either, so after our nine classes were up, we didn't enroll again. Then when he was 16 months old, shortly after he learned to walk, he took Kindergym through our local community center. He liked that better, so we stayed with it for about six months. There was no instruction, so he didn't learn any gymnastics -- it was just free play in a kiddie-gym environment, which was fine during the rainy season, but when summer started I couldn't see the point of not playing outside instead.
So that's what we've been doing since last May, when we quit Kindergym -- for nearly a year we've just been hanging out and doing our own thing. In addition to pursuing our own interests (which means doing a lot of gardening!), we belong to two separate playgroups, so we have standing engagements to get together with friends two mornings a week. Both playgroups are informal groups, however, not structured like a class would be. This past week we went to Studio Grow with one playgroup, and took the ferry to have lunch in San Francisco with the other. The week before that, we went to two different parks. Life is good.
I'm mostly hoping the music class has good songs, and that it encourages Isaac's existing interest in singing and playing simple instruments. But I'm also hoping it will help him to feel more comfortable participating in a group. I've noticed that he seems overwhelmed in boisterous surroundings, and he prefers to quietly observe, often from the safety of my lap. For instance, even though he loves to sing, he really didn't enjoy the music time at Studio Grow this week, and he didn't relax enough to sing until later, when he was on his own. Maybe this is just his temperament, and nothing will change it, and that's fine too. But I want to give him a chance to learn to enjoy a group musical experience, and regularly attending a class seems the best way to do that right now.
But if he hates it, then we'll quit after the session is over, and we'll go back to playing duets in our own living room. Two days ago we sang "Fox Went Out on a Chilly Night" together, and I played the autoharp while Isaac accompanied me on the cymbals. Life, as I said, is good.
It's been a long time since he's been enrolled in a structured activity. In fact, he's only ever taken two classes, which is extremely unusual for his peer group. Some of the kids he plays with are in preschool already, but even those who aren't in school take classes: art, music, sports, foreign language, science, and so forth. And now we're joining the trend.
Right before Isaac turned one year old, we tried a Kindermusik class, but I didn't like the songs and Isaac didn't seem impressed either, so after our nine classes were up, we didn't enroll again. Then when he was 16 months old, shortly after he learned to walk, he took Kindergym through our local community center. He liked that better, so we stayed with it for about six months. There was no instruction, so he didn't learn any gymnastics -- it was just free play in a kiddie-gym environment, which was fine during the rainy season, but when summer started I couldn't see the point of not playing outside instead.
So that's what we've been doing since last May, when we quit Kindergym -- for nearly a year we've just been hanging out and doing our own thing. In addition to pursuing our own interests (which means doing a lot of gardening!), we belong to two separate playgroups, so we have standing engagements to get together with friends two mornings a week. Both playgroups are informal groups, however, not structured like a class would be. This past week we went to Studio Grow with one playgroup, and took the ferry to have lunch in San Francisco with the other. The week before that, we went to two different parks. Life is good.
I'm mostly hoping the music class has good songs, and that it encourages Isaac's existing interest in singing and playing simple instruments. But I'm also hoping it will help him to feel more comfortable participating in a group. I've noticed that he seems overwhelmed in boisterous surroundings, and he prefers to quietly observe, often from the safety of my lap. For instance, even though he loves to sing, he really didn't enjoy the music time at Studio Grow this week, and he didn't relax enough to sing until later, when he was on his own. Maybe this is just his temperament, and nothing will change it, and that's fine too. But I want to give him a chance to learn to enjoy a group musical experience, and regularly attending a class seems the best way to do that right now.
But if he hates it, then we'll quit after the session is over, and we'll go back to playing duets in our own living room. Two days ago we sang "Fox Went Out on a Chilly Night" together, and I played the autoharp while Isaac accompanied me on the cymbals. Life, as I said, is good.
Positive thinker
The other day we were driving on the freeway, and as we negotiated a usually congested interchange, Isaac noticed there were very few cars.
"Hey, there's no traffic!" he said.
"Yeah, it's much nicer this way," I said.
"Mama, even when there is traffic, it's still nice," he said.
- - - - -
Isaac said a similar thing about the flowers that Craig brought me for our anniversary.
I noted that the bouquet still looked nice, although the petals were getting close to dropping off. Isaac said, "Even when the petals fall off, they're still nice."
"Hey, there's no traffic!" he said.
"Yeah, it's much nicer this way," I said.
"Mama, even when there is traffic, it's still nice," he said.
- - - - -
Isaac said a similar thing about the flowers that Craig brought me for our anniversary.
I noted that the bouquet still looked nice, although the petals were getting close to dropping off. Isaac said, "Even when the petals fall off, they're still nice."
Sunday, November 30, 2014
Underpants
Isaac wore underpants for five hours today.Yup, underpants -- no diaper. And we didn't just stay safely at home, right nearby a familiar toilet -- first we went for a walk in our neighborhood, and when that went well, we drove to Oakland and did some shopping.
Isaac had pooped in the toilet every day for a week straight, so it seemed like he was getting ready to make a leap forward in toilet training. A few weeks ago Craig had bought Isaac some training diapers (the kind that teach awareness by not wicking away moisture), but he was very resistant to wearing them. So yesterday Craig went shopping with Isaac and they bought some real underpants. Tiny, adorable underpants, but real ones!
They were an experiment, meant only as a gentle introduction to the concept of going diaper-free, but it turned out that Isaac was very excited about them. He wore the underpants around the house for a few hours yesterday evening, including the jubilant session of jumping on his bed that you see pictured here. (In his right hand he is holding pink and yellow socks, which he also picked out while shopping with Craig.)
When Isaac woke up this morning, he wanted to put on the underpants again. (He wore the socks today, too -- one pink, one yellow.) And everything went perfectly until we got back home from shopping. As we were relaxing before lunch, Isaac suddenly said, "Don't know why I peed." And after that, he kept asking, "Why did I pee in my underwear?"
- - - - -
And was he overly upset by this mistake? Not really, despite my impression that he's got perfectionist tendencies. After I cleaned him up, he even chose to put on another pair of underpants!
I'm glad he believed us when we told him that Mama and Dad don't mind when he makes mistakes.
No nap
No, he is not ready to give up his nap. Oh, no. Not ready. Oh, no, no, no. Not if today's terrible behavior was any indication!
For many months Isaac has taken an afternoon nap starting at about 2:00; we wake him up after about an hour and a half. In the last 30 days he has missed this nap nine times, much more than usual. For the last two weeks, he has even been following a pattern: two afternoons he'll nap, the next afternoon he won't. Actually, the "two on, one off" pattern began nearly four weeks ago, but those first few missing naps were skipped on purpose by me! See, first there was an Easter party, then I took him along as I shopped for shoes, then my cousin got married ... I had no idea I was sowing the seeds of destruction.
It's usually not a big deal when he won't nap. Even when he is clearly tired and in need of a nap, he seems to rally, and all afternoon he continues to be a pleasant, happy child. Although he might get a little wild by bedtime, the payoff is that he falls asleep early and easily that night. It's really not a problem.
But what if he misses two naps in a row?
Our Trixie Tracker shows that this has only ever happened twice. The first time was in January of this year, and the historical record is silent on the result. The second time was today, and I can tell you that it was a total disaster. Isaac became an entirely different person, and since he's usually perfect, it wasn't an improvement! He was simultaneously exhausted, hyperactive, destructive, anxious, defiant, and frightened. He couldn't control himself at all, and he didn't understand why.
I think I handled it all pretty well, but at 5:00 p.m. I finally gave up, put him in his car seat, and resorted to driving around aimlessly. I figured that even if he didn't sleep, at least he would be safely restrained where he couldn't, for instance, try to hit the dog with a belt or knock objects into the toilet. And I could listen to my audiobook instead of his random sobs and shrieks.
He did fall asleep, though, so I let him nap for 30 minutes, and he was a little happier when he woke up.
- - - - -
On the plus side, he wore underpants for over six hours today with no accidents. He even used the public restroom at the park!
For many months Isaac has taken an afternoon nap starting at about 2:00; we wake him up after about an hour and a half. In the last 30 days he has missed this nap nine times, much more than usual. For the last two weeks, he has even been following a pattern: two afternoons he'll nap, the next afternoon he won't. Actually, the "two on, one off" pattern began nearly four weeks ago, but those first few missing naps were skipped on purpose by me! See, first there was an Easter party, then I took him along as I shopped for shoes, then my cousin got married ... I had no idea I was sowing the seeds of destruction.
It's usually not a big deal when he won't nap. Even when he is clearly tired and in need of a nap, he seems to rally, and all afternoon he continues to be a pleasant, happy child. Although he might get a little wild by bedtime, the payoff is that he falls asleep early and easily that night. It's really not a problem.
But what if he misses two naps in a row?
Our Trixie Tracker shows that this has only ever happened twice. The first time was in January of this year, and the historical record is silent on the result. The second time was today, and I can tell you that it was a total disaster. Isaac became an entirely different person, and since he's usually perfect, it wasn't an improvement! He was simultaneously exhausted, hyperactive, destructive, anxious, defiant, and frightened. He couldn't control himself at all, and he didn't understand why.
I think I handled it all pretty well, but at 5:00 p.m. I finally gave up, put him in his car seat, and resorted to driving around aimlessly. I figured that even if he didn't sleep, at least he would be safely restrained where he couldn't, for instance, try to hit the dog with a belt or knock objects into the toilet. And I could listen to my audiobook instead of his random sobs and shrieks.
He did fall asleep, though, so I let him nap for 30 minutes, and he was a little happier when he woke up.
- - - - -
On the plus side, he wore underpants for over six hours today with no accidents. He even used the public restroom at the park!
Sharing
"Why didn't Max want to share his shovel?" Isaac keeps asking.
On Wednesday our playgroup met at the Little Farm at Tilden Park, and we stopped by the playground on our way out. Sam and Max's mother was smart enough to bring their sand toys, including a realistic shovel with a two-foot high handle. (As an aside, I never bring toys to the park. For one, I like to travel light, but also I think that being at the park should be entertainment enough. But a sandbox is more fun with sand toys. In fact, without toys, a sandbox is just a desert wasteland.)
At any rate, Isaac was standing around the sandbox aimlessly, so I suggested that he use Max's shovel. (Max was not playing with it, by the way.) But as soon as Isaac's hand moved toward the shovel, Max swooped in and grabbed the shovel himself. As usual, Isaac didn't grab it back. He did, however, look very confused. Max's mother eventually convinced Max to let Isaac use the shovel "for just one minute," but of course as soon as Max relinquished the shovel he no longer cared how long Isaac used it. He never cared about the shovel, anyway. He just didn't want Isaac to have it. Totally normal two-year-old stuff.
Except Isaac is still confused by it, which is why he keeps asking why Max didn't want to share. I asked him, "Do you ever want to keep all your toys for yourself? Does it ever bother you when your friends play with your toys?"
"No," Isaac said, and I think he really meant it.
So he's trying to process the situation through play. He hugs a toy to his chest and announces, "The little boy doesn't want to share his toy." Or sometimes he says, "Mama really wants to play with my toy." Both of those are invitations for me to ask if I can borrow his toy for a little while, so I obligingly ask. Naturally he always says, "No! I'm still playing with it." But we've also done some role-playing, at his instigation, where we successfully swapped toys with each other.
I don't know if he's finally developing a sense of possessiveness, or if he's just trying to understand Max's point of view. But he has started to answer his own question with one of my answers. It's funny to hear him say to himself, "It's hard for two-year-olds to share."
- - - - -
Shane, another playgroup friend, threw a tantrum when it was time for him to leave the playground. Isaac has been asking about this as well, saying, "Don't know why Shane was crying." (He has also expanded this question to "Don't know why people cry.")
I said, "Shane didn't want to leave the park. Sometimes you don't want to go home either, right?"
Isaac looked a little doubtful, like he thought there must be more to it. "Yeah," he said.
Gosh, I sure hope he doesn't start play-acting tantrums in the process of trying to understand them. Or, worse, figure out that he can also throw a tantrum when he doesn't want to stop playing!
On Wednesday our playgroup met at the Little Farm at Tilden Park, and we stopped by the playground on our way out. Sam and Max's mother was smart enough to bring their sand toys, including a realistic shovel with a two-foot high handle. (As an aside, I never bring toys to the park. For one, I like to travel light, but also I think that being at the park should be entertainment enough. But a sandbox is more fun with sand toys. In fact, without toys, a sandbox is just a desert wasteland.)
At any rate, Isaac was standing around the sandbox aimlessly, so I suggested that he use Max's shovel. (Max was not playing with it, by the way.) But as soon as Isaac's hand moved toward the shovel, Max swooped in and grabbed the shovel himself. As usual, Isaac didn't grab it back. He did, however, look very confused. Max's mother eventually convinced Max to let Isaac use the shovel "for just one minute," but of course as soon as Max relinquished the shovel he no longer cared how long Isaac used it. He never cared about the shovel, anyway. He just didn't want Isaac to have it. Totally normal two-year-old stuff.
Except Isaac is still confused by it, which is why he keeps asking why Max didn't want to share. I asked him, "Do you ever want to keep all your toys for yourself? Does it ever bother you when your friends play with your toys?"
"No," Isaac said, and I think he really meant it.
So he's trying to process the situation through play. He hugs a toy to his chest and announces, "The little boy doesn't want to share his toy." Or sometimes he says, "Mama really wants to play with my toy." Both of those are invitations for me to ask if I can borrow his toy for a little while, so I obligingly ask. Naturally he always says, "No! I'm still playing with it." But we've also done some role-playing, at his instigation, where we successfully swapped toys with each other.
I don't know if he's finally developing a sense of possessiveness, or if he's just trying to understand Max's point of view. But he has started to answer his own question with one of my answers. It's funny to hear him say to himself, "It's hard for two-year-olds to share."
- - - - -
Shane, another playgroup friend, threw a tantrum when it was time for him to leave the playground. Isaac has been asking about this as well, saying, "Don't know why Shane was crying." (He has also expanded this question to "Don't know why people cry.")
I said, "Shane didn't want to leave the park. Sometimes you don't want to go home either, right?"
Isaac looked a little doubtful, like he thought there must be more to it. "Yeah," he said.
Gosh, I sure hope he doesn't start play-acting tantrums in the process of trying to understand them. Or, worse, figure out that he can also throw a tantrum when he doesn't want to stop playing!
Friday, November 28, 2014
Gross out
No one is immune to gender stereotyping, but I do try to rise above it.
One stereotype is that boys think gross and violent stuff is funny. I know that when Isaac enters elementary school, he and his buddies will feel compelled to adhere to this stereotype, and that's just fine.
But where do these stereotypes initially come from? Isaac, otherwise a sensitive and aesthetic child, is already showing an affinity for the gross and violent. He doesn't watch television or movies, so he's not exposed to the media, and he doesn't have biased books or toys. Perhaps all children like gross stuff, but girls are actively discouraged from expressing their interest?
At any rate, here are three of his recent jokes. In every case, the punchline was delivered with a wicked grin.
How do I respond? With amused disgust, just like he wants.
- - - - -
You might ask how he even knows about monster trucks if he's such a media innocent. Well, we looked up pictures of monster trucks on Google Images, and most of them are smashing cars. Hey, at least it wasn't YouTube.
- - - - -
He actually seems a little concerned about the superficial gender roles he has noticed. Several times he has asked, "Why do mostly women and girls wear tights?" Perhaps it doesn't seem fair to him that men and boys are excluded? But I let him put on my lip gloss when he asks, although I do point out that it's mostly women and big girls who wear makeup.
As far as more damaging gender roles, he still accepts it when we tell him that women can work at any job, although he'll soon realize that real-world examples of female construction workers and truck drivers are few (politicians and CEOs will come later). Thankfully he has a wonderful example right at home demonstrating that fathers can take good care of children.
.
One stereotype is that boys think gross and violent stuff is funny. I know that when Isaac enters elementary school, he and his buddies will feel compelled to adhere to this stereotype, and that's just fine.
But where do these stereotypes initially come from? Isaac, otherwise a sensitive and aesthetic child, is already showing an affinity for the gross and violent. He doesn't watch television or movies, so he's not exposed to the media, and he doesn't have biased books or toys. Perhaps all children like gross stuff, but girls are actively discouraged from expressing their interest?
At any rate, here are three of his recent jokes. In every case, the punchline was delivered with a wicked grin.
Isaac: Would you like a cup of mucus?
Mama: No, thank you.
Isaac: Would you like a cup of skunk mucus?
Isaac: I'm going to smash the old cars with a monster truck.
Mama: Oh, yes?
Isaac: I'm going to smash them with a pickaxe!
Isaac: What are those red things?
Mama: It's cherry vanilla ice cream, so they're cherries.
Isaac: Are they blood?
How do I respond? With amused disgust, just like he wants.
- - - - -
You might ask how he even knows about monster trucks if he's such a media innocent. Well, we looked up pictures of monster trucks on Google Images, and most of them are smashing cars. Hey, at least it wasn't YouTube.
- - - - -
He actually seems a little concerned about the superficial gender roles he has noticed. Several times he has asked, "Why do mostly women and girls wear tights?" Perhaps it doesn't seem fair to him that men and boys are excluded? But I let him put on my lip gloss when he asks, although I do point out that it's mostly women and big girls who wear makeup.
As far as more damaging gender roles, he still accepts it when we tell him that women can work at any job, although he'll soon realize that real-world examples of female construction workers and truck drivers are few (politicians and CEOs will come later). Thankfully he has a wonderful example right at home demonstrating that fathers can take good care of children.
.
Motor Mania
Isaac has never cared much about his clothes, but that's beginning to change.It has been coming on gradually, beginning with pair of pajamas with tractors on them that his paternal grandparents sent him for Christmas. He immediately loved them, and at first even refused to take them off.
But even though I have long suspected that Isaac would love wearing clothing entirely covered in vehicles, I still avoided buying it. I figured that until he began to actually express a preference, I was going to continue buying him the clothes I thought were cool.
This took longer than I had expected, perhaps due to his easy-going nature. Many of his playmates, both boys and girls, began caring about their clothes before they turned two. Some of the kids are fashion plates, insisting on changing outfits multiple times, and some are idiosyncratic, only wearing certain types of clothes -- always boots, or dresses, or sports themes.
And the clothing preferences of many of the kids are defined in opposition to whatever their parents suggest. (This probably continues long after the Terrible Twos are left behind!) But Isaac only suffers from garden-variety opposition, and he doesn't waste it on clothing selection. Perhaps he would still prefer to wear his tractor pajamas every day, but after I explained a few times that we only wear pajamas to bed, he easily gave in.
However, one morning last week, out of the blue, Isaac said, "Let's go to the kid store today and buy a race-car shirt."
I could have easily distracted Isaac from this request, but I thought it would be interesting to see what it was like to shop for clothes with a child who really wanted to buy something, let alone something in particular. So we went to our favorite second-hand store where for the first time ever, we looked at the shirts together -- he usually heads straight for the toy section.
And there was, in fact, a race-car shirt! Unfortunately it was a set of matching NASCAR overalls and t-shirt, and it was absolutely hideous. So I lied and told Isaac it wasn't his size, and happily he took it in stride and didn't insist on buying the shirt anyway. Thank goodness for that easy-going nature.
- - - - -
We did buy two vehicle t-shirts, though. One shirt is blue and orange with a yellow VW Bug dune buggy on the front, very cheerful and cute and perfect for a toddler.
The other shirt, pictured here, is bizarrely inappropriate for a small child. It's pseudo-vintage, so the black was artificially faded, and the fabric is thin and soft like a old t-shirt. As you can see, on the front is a late 1960s muscle car with tendrils of smoke coming out of the souped-up engine. And the smoke? Click on the picture to get an enlarged view of it. Yep, the smoke takes the form of Jimi Hendrix playing the guitar!
I found it so preposterous that I just had to buy it. Although Isaac doesn't care. He now calls it his "race car shirt."
- - - - -
Isn't that a terrible smile on Isaac's face? It's getting hard to get him to pose for a picture.
Bear bell
I think Isaac enjoyed our trip to Yosemite, which was his first camping experience. We stayed in Housekeeping Camp, which has tent-cabins with beds and electricity, so it wasn't true camping, but it was a good first step for all of us.
I checked out a few kids' books about camping beforehand, because I like to be prepared before I try anything new, and I think Isaac feels the same way. A great one was Ashley Wolff's Stella and Roy Go Camping. In the book, a bear knocks around Stella and Roy's bear barrel, where all their food and toiletries are safely stored, but can't get into it. We told Isaac that since we were car camping, not backpacking, we would put our belongings in a big bear box. Just like in the book, bears might be attracted by the scent, but they wouldn't be able to get any of our stuff.
We made other preparations for bears. We bought a "bear bell" to fasten to our backpack to alert wildlife to our presence. I took the car to be detailed, including having the carpets shampooed, to remove all the food that Isaac has dropped on the floor. We also packed a tambourine -- I figured we could play it as we sung around the campfire, but it could also be used to frighten off a bear in the middle of the night.
But on the drive up to Yosemite, Isaac began to get upset. "I don't want to go camping," he wailed. "I want to go back home." After a bit of investigation, it turned out that he was scared of bears. At first Craig tried the rational approach, telling Isaac that it was very unlikely that we would see a bear. No good. Then he tried the optimistic approach, telling Isaac that we wouldn't see a bear. That was no good either. Isaac would calm down for a while, but then he would begin to wail again.
I began to think about my own anxieties and the strategies I have found helpful in dealing with them. Optimistic denial has never worked for me, and it clearly wasn't working for Isaac either. So I tried my own version of pragmatism -- assuming the worst will happen, and having a practical strategy in place for dealing with it.
"What will we do if we see a bear?" I asked Isaac. He looked nervous. I said, "We'll ring the bear bell, we'll shake the tambourine, and we'll tell the bear, Get out of here!" He looked hopeful. "And what will the bear say?" I continued. He looked intrigued. "He'll say, Bye-bye, these people are too loud for me!" He looked thrilled.
Talking about our bear-repelling strategies really helped him. We had to repeat the sequence several times over the course of the drive, and again when we got to Yosemite itself. But he wasn't just scared any more -- he enjoyed hearing it, especially when the bear said "Bye-bye."
- - - - -
We didn't see a bear, thankfully, so we never had to put our strategies to the test. But Isaac's fear of bears has followed us back home, now applied more generally to "the animals in the woods." I'm having a harder time defusing this fear, perhaps because I don't share it, or perhaps because I just can't work up enthusiasm for being afraid of deer or squirrels.
We do have a large amount of open space behind our house, and there are no doubt a number of animals living up there. Recently Isaac has been having nightmares, waking up upset, and asking desperately, "Are the animals going to stay in the woods?" The honest answer is no, of course -- deer, raccoons, rats, voles, squirrels, hawks, vultures, owls, turkeys, bats, coyotes, bobcats, skunks, foxes, and opossums all live nearby, and they are bound to be wandering by our house.
Before I can figure out how to deal with this fear, I need to discover exactly what is frightening him. Sometimes Isaac tries to reassure himself by repeating things he has heard Craig say. Isaac will say things like, "The animals can't come inside the house. They don't have hands. They don't have thumbs." Sometimes he even says, "The animals aren't going to hurt you." But I don't think these statements help, and I don't even know if he really is afraid of the animals coming into the house, or of them hurting him. Those might be just our interpretations of his fear.
He does enjoy acting like an animal -- he pretends to be an animal rustling in the bushes, and I act startled when I see him -- so maybe more role-playing is the way to go. Yesterday we were pretending to be two little foxes snuggled in our den. I also tried suggesting that when he sees an animal he doesn't like, he can just clap his hands and shout, and the animal will run away. Unfortunately he tried this when he spotted a squirrel through the window, and naturally the squirrel didn't hear him and simply stayed put. "It didn't work," Isaac said.
Or maybe I should take him for a walk in the woods. As long as we don't see a bear!
I checked out a few kids' books about camping beforehand, because I like to be prepared before I try anything new, and I think Isaac feels the same way. A great one was Ashley Wolff's Stella and Roy Go Camping. In the book, a bear knocks around Stella and Roy's bear barrel, where all their food and toiletries are safely stored, but can't get into it. We told Isaac that since we were car camping, not backpacking, we would put our belongings in a big bear box. Just like in the book, bears might be attracted by the scent, but they wouldn't be able to get any of our stuff.
We made other preparations for bears. We bought a "bear bell" to fasten to our backpack to alert wildlife to our presence. I took the car to be detailed, including having the carpets shampooed, to remove all the food that Isaac has dropped on the floor. We also packed a tambourine -- I figured we could play it as we sung around the campfire, but it could also be used to frighten off a bear in the middle of the night.
But on the drive up to Yosemite, Isaac began to get upset. "I don't want to go camping," he wailed. "I want to go back home." After a bit of investigation, it turned out that he was scared of bears. At first Craig tried the rational approach, telling Isaac that it was very unlikely that we would see a bear. No good. Then he tried the optimistic approach, telling Isaac that we wouldn't see a bear. That was no good either. Isaac would calm down for a while, but then he would begin to wail again.
I began to think about my own anxieties and the strategies I have found helpful in dealing with them. Optimistic denial has never worked for me, and it clearly wasn't working for Isaac either. So I tried my own version of pragmatism -- assuming the worst will happen, and having a practical strategy in place for dealing with it.
"What will we do if we see a bear?" I asked Isaac. He looked nervous. I said, "We'll ring the bear bell, we'll shake the tambourine, and we'll tell the bear, Get out of here!" He looked hopeful. "And what will the bear say?" I continued. He looked intrigued. "He'll say, Bye-bye, these people are too loud for me!" He looked thrilled.
Talking about our bear-repelling strategies really helped him. We had to repeat the sequence several times over the course of the drive, and again when we got to Yosemite itself. But he wasn't just scared any more -- he enjoyed hearing it, especially when the bear said "Bye-bye."
- - - - -
We didn't see a bear, thankfully, so we never had to put our strategies to the test. But Isaac's fear of bears has followed us back home, now applied more generally to "the animals in the woods." I'm having a harder time defusing this fear, perhaps because I don't share it, or perhaps because I just can't work up enthusiasm for being afraid of deer or squirrels.
We do have a large amount of open space behind our house, and there are no doubt a number of animals living up there. Recently Isaac has been having nightmares, waking up upset, and asking desperately, "Are the animals going to stay in the woods?" The honest answer is no, of course -- deer, raccoons, rats, voles, squirrels, hawks, vultures, owls, turkeys, bats, coyotes, bobcats, skunks, foxes, and opossums all live nearby, and they are bound to be wandering by our house.
Before I can figure out how to deal with this fear, I need to discover exactly what is frightening him. Sometimes Isaac tries to reassure himself by repeating things he has heard Craig say. Isaac will say things like, "The animals can't come inside the house. They don't have hands. They don't have thumbs." Sometimes he even says, "The animals aren't going to hurt you." But I don't think these statements help, and I don't even know if he really is afraid of the animals coming into the house, or of them hurting him. Those might be just our interpretations of his fear.
He does enjoy acting like an animal -- he pretends to be an animal rustling in the bushes, and I act startled when I see him -- so maybe more role-playing is the way to go. Yesterday we were pretending to be two little foxes snuggled in our den. I also tried suggesting that when he sees an animal he doesn't like, he can just clap his hands and shout, and the animal will run away. Unfortunately he tried this when he spotted a squirrel through the window, and naturally the squirrel didn't hear him and simply stayed put. "It didn't work," Isaac said.
Or maybe I should take him for a walk in the woods. As long as we don't see a bear!
Thursday, November 27, 2014
The librarian's son
Last night, as he was falling asleep, Isaac announced, "Both warthogs and wildebeests snort." Then he asked, "Do warthogs breathe?"
"Yes," I told him. "All animals breathe."
"Do even little babies breathe?"
"Yes," I told him. "We all need to breathe to stay alive."
"Why?"
"You know what, honey?" I told him. "I'm not sure why."
"But we can look it up!" he said cheerfully.
"Yes," I told him. "All animals breathe."
"Do even little babies breathe?"
"Yes," I told him. "We all need to breathe to stay alive."
"Why?"
"You know what, honey?" I told him. "I'm not sure why."
"But we can look it up!" he said cheerfully.
Know-it-all
"Which is the only planet that hasn't been visited by spacecraft?"
No, Isaac isn't an astronomy prodigy. We went to a party yesterday where we met a talkative boy of about seven years of age, and he was the one who was interested in outer space. I found him irritating, especially because his space-fact recitations tapped into fears about Isaac that I didn't even know I had.
I didn't know the answer to his question about the planets, but my fellow party guest was more than happy to inform me that it was Pluto.
"I thought Pluto wasn't a planet any more," I said with more satisfaction than was appropriate.
He looked stricken and mumbled, "This was from before they decided it wasn't a planet."
Later I recounted this interaction to the boy's father (a scientist, by the way), and he told me that they have a talking toy that recites facts about the solar system, and it does predate 2006, when Pluto was demoted to "dwarf planet." He told me that the previous day his son had played with the toy for two hours straight, which begins to explain why his party conversation was mostly comprised of facts about outer space.
But "conversation" isn't the right word. Several times I tried to discuss outer space with the boy, but he didn't want a dialog -- he was more interested in lecturing me while I nodded politely. I don't think he was autistic, either. I think he was a know-it-all.
I recognize this because, as they say, it takes one to know one. I'm not sure I was the type of child who cornered strange adults at parties and overwhelmed them with a recitation of facts -- I think I was too shy, and more likely to just bring a book. But something about this boy's behavior seemed chillingly familiar. Perhaps I am only a know-it-all with people I already know?
- - - - -
Isaac has picked up several of my more pedantic expressions, which makes me afraid that he could be heading into the same know-it-all territory:
Because we recognize it as a problem in our own lives, maybe Craig and I can provide Isaac with social skills coaching if we see him turning out to be an irritating know-it-all. The problem is that we may be blinded by love -- everything Isaac says is fascinating to us.
.
No, Isaac isn't an astronomy prodigy. We went to a party yesterday where we met a talkative boy of about seven years of age, and he was the one who was interested in outer space. I found him irritating, especially because his space-fact recitations tapped into fears about Isaac that I didn't even know I had.
I didn't know the answer to his question about the planets, but my fellow party guest was more than happy to inform me that it was Pluto.
"I thought Pluto wasn't a planet any more," I said with more satisfaction than was appropriate.
He looked stricken and mumbled, "This was from before they decided it wasn't a planet."
Later I recounted this interaction to the boy's father (a scientist, by the way), and he told me that they have a talking toy that recites facts about the solar system, and it does predate 2006, when Pluto was demoted to "dwarf planet." He told me that the previous day his son had played with the toy for two hours straight, which begins to explain why his party conversation was mostly comprised of facts about outer space.
But "conversation" isn't the right word. Several times I tried to discuss outer space with the boy, but he didn't want a dialog -- he was more interested in lecturing me while I nodded politely. I don't think he was autistic, either. I think he was a know-it-all.
I recognize this because, as they say, it takes one to know one. I'm not sure I was the type of child who cornered strange adults at parties and overwhelmed them with a recitation of facts -- I think I was too shy, and more likely to just bring a book. But something about this boy's behavior seemed chillingly familiar. Perhaps I am only a know-it-all with people I already know?
- - - - -
Isaac has picked up several of my more pedantic expressions, which makes me afraid that he could be heading into the same know-it-all territory:
- Actually ...
- In fact ...
- You know ...
Because we recognize it as a problem in our own lives, maybe Craig and I can provide Isaac with social skills coaching if we see him turning out to be an irritating know-it-all. The problem is that we may be blinded by love -- everything Isaac says is fascinating to us.
.
Wednesday, November 26, 2014
Preschool application questions
How would you describe your child? What are his/her greatest strengths/needs?
He is verbally expressive, calm, even-tempered, and easy-going. He is cautious but curious, reserved but amiable, slow to warm up but ultimately adaptable.
What are his/her major interests/choices during free time at home?
Toy vehicles, blocks, being read to, pretending to do real work (cleaning, using tools), imaginary play with adults.
What kinds of responsibilities does your child have at home? What are your expectations of him/her?
Few responsibilities -- sometimes clearing own dishes, picking up a few toys. We expect him to be polite and nonviolent, and not to whine.
Does your child have any special learning or counseling needs? Please describe.
He is sensitive and cautious and is easily impressed by warnings from adults -- too many "be careful"s overwhelm him and make him retreat from the situation, so a gentle touch is needed when explaining potential dangers.
Does your child have any fears or anxieties we should know about? Please describe.
He is nervous around things that might make a loud noise, like vacuum cleaners and hand dryers.
What are your expectations of us during this coming year?
We want Isaac to have fun and feel cherished.
He is verbally expressive, calm, even-tempered, and easy-going. He is cautious but curious, reserved but amiable, slow to warm up but ultimately adaptable.
What are his/her major interests/choices during free time at home?
Toy vehicles, blocks, being read to, pretending to do real work (cleaning, using tools), imaginary play with adults.
What kinds of responsibilities does your child have at home? What are your expectations of him/her?
Few responsibilities -- sometimes clearing own dishes, picking up a few toys. We expect him to be polite and nonviolent, and not to whine.
Does your child have any special learning or counseling needs? Please describe.
He is sensitive and cautious and is easily impressed by warnings from adults -- too many "be careful"s overwhelm him and make him retreat from the situation, so a gentle touch is needed when explaining potential dangers.
Does your child have any fears or anxieties we should know about? Please describe.
He is nervous around things that might make a loud noise, like vacuum cleaners and hand dryers.
What are your expectations of us during this coming year?
We want Isaac to have fun and feel cherished.
Rhythm
We only have three classes left in our Music Together session, and I'm considering signing up for one more session after this. I doubt we'll keep it up once Isaac starts school two days a week in the fall, however. (Yes, we took the plunge and enrolled him in the preschool!) I think he enjoys the music class, although he alternates between smiling widely and burying his face in his hands. When he gets really overwhelmed he even hides in my lap! Only certain activities seem to trigger the hiding response -- not plain old singing, but nursery rhymes and chants, especially those with exaggerated facial expressions and gestures. He loves to watch the teacher recite these, but as soon as she looks his way, he needs to hide.
But playing rhythm instruments is by far his favorite part of class. He gets very excited! When the teacher got out the box containing the sticks that you see in this photo, Isaac leaped to his feet and was at her side before she even set the box down in the middle of the room. He was the first one to grab up a pair of sticks, and then he was the only one to stand up while playing them.
He always stands up and sways back and forth while he plays, whether he shakes a tambourine, rattles jingle bells, or hits a resonator bar with a little mallet. He seems to have rhythm -- but only while he's playing an instrument. When it's time to dance around with a scarf, for example, his enthusiasm wanes. In fact, instead of waving around his tie-dyed scarf during the dancing part of class, he usually uses it to pretend to clean the mosaic windows you see in the background of this photo.
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