Squidbits
It was bound to happen. The Squid has discovered whining.
Most of his friends figured out whining at two, and a lot of them have it more or less out of their systems now. But for the Squid, it is still a fresh new communication device! Handed a toy telephone or a cell phone with a dead battery, he will figure out within moments that it does not work and lose interest. I am still waiting for this to happen with the whine. All kids pick it up at some point, but it seems to be entirely counterproductive. I mean, does whining work? Not in our family. And yet it persists.
Maybe because it gets a reaction - irritation and the injunction to stop whining. We've had a lot more hitting, throwing things, complaining that he feels sick, and moaning that he is sad, too - all attention-getting devices (though yes, we are being careful and taking him to a pediatric allergist next month in case there is something to his daily claim that his tummy hurts. Just because he only seems to notice when he has to go to school or to bed doesn't mean it's not worth checking out.) I've been trying to talk to him about the difference between the attention he wants and "negative attention" and to teach him to ask for attention straight up, but that's pretty advanced stuff, and I don't expect him to get it any time soon. So, whining. We spent probably five minutes of the drive to school today with him kicking the back of my seat and repeating, "I don't waaant to go to schooool." Over and over, joy.
Less than merry on the merry-go-round.
Maybe it's just that cause and effect are still tough for him if they are not instantaneously obviously related. He doesn't really understand about the consequences of actions; when I am stern with him or put him in time out for one transgression or another, after he has calmed down and when we are talking about what happened, he says, "Can you say sorry to me that you were angry?" "It doesn't make me fair that I had a time out." And I'm trying to come up with some ways to address it that might make sense to him. After all, he has to say sorry when he does something mean to me. If I then do something mean to him, like a time out, I should say sorry too, right? Fairness is an especially tough one - all I've managed is that no, the world in general is not very fair, but people try their very best to make it as fair as they can.
To which statement I invariably get: "Why?"
Yes, he has also moved into the "why" stage. Before we got here, I thought I would keep up pretty well. And it's true, I have enough random knowledge that I can at least tell him general answers to factual questions. I have enough savvy about human nature to guess at a lot of other things. But sometimes he just stumps me.
Squid's room before and after a playdate.
I made him a little calendar out of magnets and coasters, with images for each home activity that he can move from one side of the fridge to the other as he completes them. It seems to help him know what to expect and has helped out a little with our morning and evening routines. And we give him warnings that transitions are coming and set the kitchen timer to let him know when time is up, that sort of thing, though the main effect that seems to have had is to give him "two more minutes" for his repetoire when trying to prolong an activity. I see a lifetime of bargaining and haggling ahead of me. "That's the deal," he tells me authoritatively, and I quail a little. Someday our negotiation skills will employ almost the exact same vocabularies, and then they will sell tickets to the fun.
Preschool drop-off is heartbreaking these days. He cries and clings to my legs. "I don't want you to leave me!" he wails. I pry him off and explain that I will come back in the afternoon, that he is safe and with friends and will probably have a lot of fun. I tell him I always come back. And I leave, trying to make as little fuss about it as possible. But hearing him say, "I'm worried you'll leave," and "I don't want you to leave me" and having his sobs follow me out the door is just heartrending. It's a phase, of course; he was okay before, and he'll be okay again, and he tells me when I pick him up that he had a good time, but ow.
Eating homemade watermelon popsicles in the backyard.
We had some real low points this month. Squid's asthma put him in various clinics, the ER, and finally the hospital for a full weekend, which was scary as hell. One of our beloved old dogs died, after a long life lived to the fullest, and we miss her horribly. Explaining her passing to the Squid, and hearing him try to make sense of it, is heartbreaking. "She had to go to the doctor but the doctor couldn't fix her. Sometimes they do and sometimes they can't. So she is in Dog Heaven** and the doctor there can fix her," he told me yesterday. My Grammy fell and broke her leg, which is a bigger deal at 97 than it is for younger folks, and we had to cancel our planned 4th of July visit down to see her.
But we had some really wonderful things happen too. We spent a weekend in Sonoma with our good friends M & K, relaxing, eating amazing food, and catching up. My medication finally (finally!) seems to have stabilized me, and I have spent three weeks and counting of being relatively okay, which is a record for the recent past. My Grammy got through the surgery and is recovering well. My parents had a fabulous time biking through Australia and have made it safely home. I turned 35. We had our 5th wedding anniversary. We saw UP, which is the most enjoyable movie I have seen in years. My work projects finally moved out of their endless "process" phase and into the part I am actually good at. I got the tattoo I had been planning for the last two years. And we are all, always, enjoying our time with the Squid - whining and all - and marveling at his ongoing progression into personhood. Being a parent is awesome.
* Thrift store. I hate buying plastic toys; it makes me feel like I am a one-person landfill machine - so we go "treasure hunting" and I buy them secondhand and then when he outgrows them we donate them back. This last weekend we found a big yellow bulldozer, a full toy toolbox (complete with clamp and table saw as well as power drill and other tools), and a marble maze for about $10 total. I cleaned them up and ran the pieces I could through the dishwasher and et voila - new toys!)
** A neighbor gave us a book when she heard our dog had passed away called "Dog Heaven." I line-edited it heavily as I read to take out the more egregious monotheism, as Himself and I do not share a religion, but the Squid was fascinated and asked for it repeatedly. It gave him a concept of "heaven" and "angels" that he didn't have before, but it worked fine - he's come up with an explanation that makes sense to him and jives with our other explanations of where she is, and that's good for now. And it was incredibly sweet of our neighbors to think of us.
Most of his friends figured out whining at two, and a lot of them have it more or less out of their systems now. But for the Squid, it is still a fresh new communication device! Handed a toy telephone or a cell phone with a dead battery, he will figure out within moments that it does not work and lose interest. I am still waiting for this to happen with the whine. All kids pick it up at some point, but it seems to be entirely counterproductive. I mean, does whining work? Not in our family. And yet it persists.
Maybe because it gets a reaction - irritation and the injunction to stop whining. We've had a lot more hitting, throwing things, complaining that he feels sick, and moaning that he is sad, too - all attention-getting devices (though yes, we are being careful and taking him to a pediatric allergist next month in case there is something to his daily claim that his tummy hurts. Just because he only seems to notice when he has to go to school or to bed doesn't mean it's not worth checking out.) I've been trying to talk to him about the difference between the attention he wants and "negative attention" and to teach him to ask for attention straight up, but that's pretty advanced stuff, and I don't expect him to get it any time soon. So, whining. We spent probably five minutes of the drive to school today with him kicking the back of my seat and repeating, "I don't waaant to go to schooool." Over and over, joy.
Less than merry on the merry-go-round.
Maybe it's just that cause and effect are still tough for him if they are not instantaneously obviously related. He doesn't really understand about the consequences of actions; when I am stern with him or put him in time out for one transgression or another, after he has calmed down and when we are talking about what happened, he says, "Can you say sorry to me that you were angry?" "It doesn't make me fair that I had a time out." And I'm trying to come up with some ways to address it that might make sense to him. After all, he has to say sorry when he does something mean to me. If I then do something mean to him, like a time out, I should say sorry too, right? Fairness is an especially tough one - all I've managed is that no, the world in general is not very fair, but people try their very best to make it as fair as they can.
To which statement I invariably get: "Why?"
Yes, he has also moved into the "why" stage. Before we got here, I thought I would keep up pretty well. And it's true, I have enough random knowledge that I can at least tell him general answers to factual questions. I have enough savvy about human nature to guess at a lot of other things. But sometimes he just stumps me.
Squid: Do you have a trunk on your car like Daddy's?He learned to pedal his tricycle (finally!) though he is still neither swift nor confident on it; we still use the handle to push it for most of our trips to the park. He no longer uses his high chair, and he wants to do a great many things "my own self" though he is still easily frustrated when he runs into difficulties. In some ways, he is getting to be a very big boy! In others, not so much. Still not an iota of budge on the potty training, despite promises of a "big boy bed" and no more diaper changes if he will cooperate. And fine motor control is still not up to tasks like brushing his teeth well. He will brush them, but I can tell he's not actually getting all the surfaces, so I usually brush them first and then let him do it. He can spit now, though, and he couldn't last month. And he finally likes the shower more, though that may have more to do with the way it's not chilly when he gets out during the summertime. Either that or his swimming lessons, which are coming along nicely, have increased his comfort level with water. He can paddle himself around if he holds on to a pool noodle, and they are working on having him put his face in the water.
Me: Yes; they look a little different, but they serve the same function.
Squid: Why?
Me: Because sometimes we bring home more things than the rest of the car can carry, and we want to have room for them.
Squid: Why do we bring them?
Me: Because we need groceries and sometimes lumber or other things that need a lot of space.
Squid: Why do we need them?
Me: Well, to eat or to make things out of. Or to play with, you remember the toys we got at the treasure store?* We put those in the trunk.
Squid: Why do we need them?
Me: I just answered that.
Squid: Why?
Me: Because you asked me.
Squid: Why?
Me: I don't know, honey, maybe because you were interested.
Squid: Why?
Me: You're going to have to look within yourself for the answer to that one.
Squid: ...
Me: In your trunk, perhaps. Do you have a trunk?
Squid: No, that's silly.
Me: Why?
Squid: I'm not an elephant!
Squid's room before and after a playdate.
I made him a little calendar out of magnets and coasters, with images for each home activity that he can move from one side of the fridge to the other as he completes them. It seems to help him know what to expect and has helped out a little with our morning and evening routines. And we give him warnings that transitions are coming and set the kitchen timer to let him know when time is up, that sort of thing, though the main effect that seems to have had is to give him "two more minutes" for his repetoire when trying to prolong an activity. I see a lifetime of bargaining and haggling ahead of me. "That's the deal," he tells me authoritatively, and I quail a little. Someday our negotiation skills will employ almost the exact same vocabularies, and then they will sell tickets to the fun.
Preschool drop-off is heartbreaking these days. He cries and clings to my legs. "I don't want you to leave me!" he wails. I pry him off and explain that I will come back in the afternoon, that he is safe and with friends and will probably have a lot of fun. I tell him I always come back. And I leave, trying to make as little fuss about it as possible. But hearing him say, "I'm worried you'll leave," and "I don't want you to leave me" and having his sobs follow me out the door is just heartrending. It's a phase, of course; he was okay before, and he'll be okay again, and he tells me when I pick him up that he had a good time, but ow.
Eating homemade watermelon popsicles in the backyard.
We had some real low points this month. Squid's asthma put him in various clinics, the ER, and finally the hospital for a full weekend, which was scary as hell. One of our beloved old dogs died, after a long life lived to the fullest, and we miss her horribly. Explaining her passing to the Squid, and hearing him try to make sense of it, is heartbreaking. "She had to go to the doctor but the doctor couldn't fix her. Sometimes they do and sometimes they can't. So she is in Dog Heaven** and the doctor there can fix her," he told me yesterday. My Grammy fell and broke her leg, which is a bigger deal at 97 than it is for younger folks, and we had to cancel our planned 4th of July visit down to see her.
But we had some really wonderful things happen too. We spent a weekend in Sonoma with our good friends M & K, relaxing, eating amazing food, and catching up. My medication finally (finally!) seems to have stabilized me, and I have spent three weeks and counting of being relatively okay, which is a record for the recent past. My Grammy got through the surgery and is recovering well. My parents had a fabulous time biking through Australia and have made it safely home. I turned 35. We had our 5th wedding anniversary. We saw UP, which is the most enjoyable movie I have seen in years. My work projects finally moved out of their endless "process" phase and into the part I am actually good at. I got the tattoo I had been planning for the last two years. And we are all, always, enjoying our time with the Squid - whining and all - and marveling at his ongoing progression into personhood. Being a parent is awesome.
* Thrift store. I hate buying plastic toys; it makes me feel like I am a one-person landfill machine - so we go "treasure hunting" and I buy them secondhand and then when he outgrows them we donate them back. This last weekend we found a big yellow bulldozer, a full toy toolbox (complete with clamp and table saw as well as power drill and other tools), and a marble maze for about $10 total. I cleaned them up and ran the pieces I could through the dishwasher and et voila - new toys!)
** A neighbor gave us a book when she heard our dog had passed away called "Dog Heaven." I line-edited it heavily as I read to take out the more egregious monotheism, as Himself and I do not share a religion, but the Squid was fascinated and asked for it repeatedly. It gave him a concept of "heaven" and "angels" that he didn't have before, but it worked fine - he's come up with an explanation that makes sense to him and jives with our other explanations of where she is, and that's good for now. And it was incredibly sweet of our neighbors to think of us.
posted by The Stute Fish at 21:02
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