Squidbits
Sort of a rough month. I was under the weather for most of it, and the Squid, well. He's in one of those phases. I have to repeat anything multiple times to get him to tune in, flat contradiction is a favorite conversational gambit, and his inside voice seems to have gone away, to be replaced by piercing shrieks and excited announcements.
Which is not to say there is no awesome to be had. Halloween was awesome. He went from house to house saying, "Here comes Robin Hood!" and often saying "trick or treat" before the door even opened and instead chirping, "Hi, I'm Robin Hood! Can I have some candy?" at indulgent neighbors. It worked pretty well; for a four-block area he hauled home half a bag of loot. I only let him eat it after he finishes meals, though, so he hasn't made much in the way of inroads. Daddy and I, on the other hand, have helped a bit. What?! We are just taking the sugar hit for him. It is defensive parenting; don't judge.
The circus was sort of awesome; it would have been more awesome if we had had comfortable seats, which was my fault for buying right before the final performances. Next year we go earlier, and bring snacks and juice. I love small family circuses, though, and he had never been to one, so it was all very new and exciting.
We did a lot of visiting with friends and family, too, which the Squid (being a social beast) always enjoys. He was the only kid at my office Halloween party and at a friend's housewarming, and mingled and played totally undaunted by the lack of same-age peers. We visited Grammy at her house, in an experiment to see how well he would nap away from home (verdict: eh) and had a great time at the park near her house with replica fire trucks and trains and teapots that you can crawl inside. Grandpa got back from Malaysia, where he was counting fish for reef conservation programs, and Grandpa is, as always, the most awesome thing ever to awesome.
Potty training is what it is. He knows how, but we have the same struggles with it that we do with anything else we want him to do at the moment that is our priority and not his. He seems to have the liquid stuff down, knock on wood, except for nighttime, and we're working on the rest of it. On the whole, I think he's doing really well. Such a big guy!
Himself and I have been a little under the weather for a while - seems like one or the other (sometimes both) of us is exhausted or achy or sick. The Squid has picked up on this and now complains at random moments that his back hurts, or that his tummy doesn't feel good. I remember being young and spry, kiddo. Your back does not hurt. Just you wait.
We are also seeing the fallout of our own behavioral modeling (mostly mine) in his pacing. This morning was classic. "Come on, time to go to preschool!" I said, standing at the door. "I'm just making sure this dinosaur is in top condition!" he yelled back, not moving. In the six yards between there and the car, he also stopped to rifle through the coats on the rack, kick a pumpkin then sit on it for a bit, stand still and complain, and swing the gate back and forth over and over and over. Everything takes forever.
This is probably me reaping the rewards of my own, "Just a second, I'm making dinner/need to finish this/have to clean up first" style of meandering toward doing things that are requested of me. Which does not make it any less frustrating. "Hop out!" I said to him the other day, opening the car door and unbuckling his carseat. And then, a full minute later, as the heavy bags I carried started to bite into my arms and he continued to noodle, "I said hop, not ooze!"
He's increasingly articulate - which for a kid who was already incredibly articulate is saying a lot. He's figured out basic narrative structures and is getting better and better at telling stories and explaining things. He's also figuring out how to use words to get out of things - preschool reports that he sometimes makes bad choices with his hands and then says "sorry," and expects to get away with it because he apologized. I have definitely seen some weaselly bargaining and some outright untruth at home, too, but it's age-appropriate, and we are discouraging.
Age-appropriate rough play is here, too, so we have a lot of talks about not hitting, not pushing, not kicking, not talking about shooting and killing, not fighting. "How was your day at preschool?" we ask. "Good," he says, then solemn and a little confidential, "I had a little kicking problem." It's hard to be a kid; the other kids have the same level of social skills he does, so you can't rely on natural social de-escalation. We talk about things he can do instead (say "no thank you," walk away, negotiate turns) but they are hard to remember in the heat of the moment.
I didn't take pictures this month. I had enough energy to keep the family fed (thank God for takeout) and fulfil my responsibilities at work (though there are odd lacunae in my time cards marked as "sick" that really translate to "curled up under desk for a desperate nap") and take care of the odd load of laundry or dishes. Pictures are way further up in Maslow's hierarchy of motherhood than where I have been operating lately. Maybe next time.
Which is not to say there is no awesome to be had. Halloween was awesome. He went from house to house saying, "Here comes Robin Hood!" and often saying "trick or treat" before the door even opened and instead chirping, "Hi, I'm Robin Hood! Can I have some candy?" at indulgent neighbors. It worked pretty well; for a four-block area he hauled home half a bag of loot. I only let him eat it after he finishes meals, though, so he hasn't made much in the way of inroads. Daddy and I, on the other hand, have helped a bit. What?! We are just taking the sugar hit for him. It is defensive parenting; don't judge.
The circus was sort of awesome; it would have been more awesome if we had had comfortable seats, which was my fault for buying right before the final performances. Next year we go earlier, and bring snacks and juice. I love small family circuses, though, and he had never been to one, so it was all very new and exciting.
We did a lot of visiting with friends and family, too, which the Squid (being a social beast) always enjoys. He was the only kid at my office Halloween party and at a friend's housewarming, and mingled and played totally undaunted by the lack of same-age peers. We visited Grammy at her house, in an experiment to see how well he would nap away from home (verdict: eh) and had a great time at the park near her house with replica fire trucks and trains and teapots that you can crawl inside. Grandpa got back from Malaysia, where he was counting fish for reef conservation programs, and Grandpa is, as always, the most awesome thing ever to awesome.
Potty training is what it is. He knows how, but we have the same struggles with it that we do with anything else we want him to do at the moment that is our priority and not his. He seems to have the liquid stuff down, knock on wood, except for nighttime, and we're working on the rest of it. On the whole, I think he's doing really well. Such a big guy!
Himself and I have been a little under the weather for a while - seems like one or the other (sometimes both) of us is exhausted or achy or sick. The Squid has picked up on this and now complains at random moments that his back hurts, or that his tummy doesn't feel good. I remember being young and spry, kiddo. Your back does not hurt. Just you wait.
We are also seeing the fallout of our own behavioral modeling (mostly mine) in his pacing. This morning was classic. "Come on, time to go to preschool!" I said, standing at the door. "I'm just making sure this dinosaur is in top condition!" he yelled back, not moving. In the six yards between there and the car, he also stopped to rifle through the coats on the rack, kick a pumpkin then sit on it for a bit, stand still and complain, and swing the gate back and forth over and over and over. Everything takes forever.
This is probably me reaping the rewards of my own, "Just a second, I'm making dinner/need to finish this/have to clean up first" style of meandering toward doing things that are requested of me. Which does not make it any less frustrating. "Hop out!" I said to him the other day, opening the car door and unbuckling his carseat. And then, a full minute later, as the heavy bags I carried started to bite into my arms and he continued to noodle, "I said hop, not ooze!"
He's increasingly articulate - which for a kid who was already incredibly articulate is saying a lot. He's figured out basic narrative structures and is getting better and better at telling stories and explaining things. He's also figuring out how to use words to get out of things - preschool reports that he sometimes makes bad choices with his hands and then says "sorry," and expects to get away with it because he apologized. I have definitely seen some weaselly bargaining and some outright untruth at home, too, but it's age-appropriate, and we are discouraging.
Age-appropriate rough play is here, too, so we have a lot of talks about not hitting, not pushing, not kicking, not talking about shooting and killing, not fighting. "How was your day at preschool?" we ask. "Good," he says, then solemn and a little confidential, "I had a little kicking problem." It's hard to be a kid; the other kids have the same level of social skills he does, so you can't rely on natural social de-escalation. We talk about things he can do instead (say "no thank you," walk away, negotiate turns) but they are hard to remember in the heat of the moment.
I didn't take pictures this month. I had enough energy to keep the family fed (thank God for takeout) and fulfil my responsibilities at work (though there are odd lacunae in my time cards marked as "sick" that really translate to "curled up under desk for a desperate nap") and take care of the odd load of laundry or dishes. Pictures are way further up in Maslow's hierarchy of motherhood than where I have been operating lately. Maybe next time.
posted by The Stute Fish at 11:58
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