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.
Monday, December 1, 2014
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."
Imaginary play
Imaginary play has taken over.
Sure, Isaac's play has always involved imagination. There's imitative play, when he pretends to cook or clean; there's symbolic play, when he builds with blocks or drives little vehicles; and there's role-playing, when he'll announce we're both kittens cuddled together in a hayloft.
But the role-playing has intensified in the last few weeks. In the course of 30 minutes, Isaac will assume a dozen different roles (usually announcing the arrival and departure of each): tree service guy, nurse, doctor, bus driver, a mischievous boy named Matt, Loader Driver, a deer walking past, Loopy the dog, construction worker, my daddy, a baby, and a cow about to eat the lawn. (And there are more!)
This type of play usually happens while we're outside, which means he's doing it while I'm pulling weeds, or spreading a wheelbarrow full of mulch, or fertilizing plants, or building a retaining wall. He sometimes works right alongside me (he's a good weed-puller), but of course he's always playing as he works, and he frequently gets caught up in his latest role.
A few of these roles are old favorites (Loader Driver and Loopy), and some are brand-new. Many are based on Isaac's real-world experiences, and a few come from books (although in the book Matt is very helpful, so I don't know why he's such a pain in the neck in Isaac's interpretation). Some require props (the nurse likes to jab me with a pine-needle syringe), but most of them are purely mental exercises. To be a deer walking past, all he needs to do is announce that he's a deer, and then he starts rustling around in the bushes, trying to startle me.
He doesn't seem to need me to play with him to enjoy these games, so I admit I don't physically participate unless asked to do so. And he really has to insist, as when the bus driver demands that I get on the bus (that is, sit down on the swinging bench next to him). I'm not totally ignoring him, though, as I'm usually participating verbally, whether acting out my role in the game or asking him questions to keep the game going. I'm pretty sure he'd like me to be more involved, though.
I'm proud of his imagination, and I feel like it's good for him to be able to play so successfully on his own, but sometimes I do feel guilty. After he's gone to bed at night these days, I find myself wondering if I played enough with him during the day. Sure, my garden looks great, but am I missing out on something even better?
Especially because I've just been talking about how perfect he is lately!
Sure, Isaac's play has always involved imagination. There's imitative play, when he pretends to cook or clean; there's symbolic play, when he builds with blocks or drives little vehicles; and there's role-playing, when he'll announce we're both kittens cuddled together in a hayloft.
But the role-playing has intensified in the last few weeks. In the course of 30 minutes, Isaac will assume a dozen different roles (usually announcing the arrival and departure of each): tree service guy, nurse, doctor, bus driver, a mischievous boy named Matt, Loader Driver, a deer walking past, Loopy the dog, construction worker, my daddy, a baby, and a cow about to eat the lawn. (And there are more!)
This type of play usually happens while we're outside, which means he's doing it while I'm pulling weeds, or spreading a wheelbarrow full of mulch, or fertilizing plants, or building a retaining wall. He sometimes works right alongside me (he's a good weed-puller), but of course he's always playing as he works, and he frequently gets caught up in his latest role.
A few of these roles are old favorites (Loader Driver and Loopy), and some are brand-new. Many are based on Isaac's real-world experiences, and a few come from books (although in the book Matt is very helpful, so I don't know why he's such a pain in the neck in Isaac's interpretation). Some require props (the nurse likes to jab me with a pine-needle syringe), but most of them are purely mental exercises. To be a deer walking past, all he needs to do is announce that he's a deer, and then he starts rustling around in the bushes, trying to startle me.
He doesn't seem to need me to play with him to enjoy these games, so I admit I don't physically participate unless asked to do so. And he really has to insist, as when the bus driver demands that I get on the bus (that is, sit down on the swinging bench next to him). I'm not totally ignoring him, though, as I'm usually participating verbally, whether acting out my role in the game or asking him questions to keep the game going. I'm pretty sure he'd like me to be more involved, though.
I'm proud of his imagination, and I feel like it's good for him to be able to play so successfully on his own, but sometimes I do feel guilty. After he's gone to bed at night these days, I find myself wondering if I played enough with him during the day. Sure, my garden looks great, but am I missing out on something even better?
Especially because I've just been talking about how perfect he is lately!
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.
New pictures
Do we still take pictures of Isaac? Of course we do! We take a lot of them, as you may have gathered from this photo I took at Easter -- Isaac finding an egg, and his doting father and aunt each taking a picture documenting his discovery. So where are all these pictures? They've remained safely in the camera for the last two months (it's a long story involving the demise of our backup hard drive), but I've just uploaded 34 of the very best of them to a brand new album. Yep, if you look over at the sidebar, you'll see we've moved on to the sixth six-month grouping of photos, which will take Isaac right up to the age of three. (I also rearranged the albums so that the newest one is on top.)
The new photos document our trip to visit Craig's parents in South Carolina, our Easter celebration at my parents' house, and me as a blonde.
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!
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