Thursday, June 27, 2013

Matters of Interpretation

Last night, we got a firsthand look at how differently a five-year-old boy and a 37-year-old man interpret the same situation.

Theo used to go to bed with no fuss—it was lovely. But lately, he has been coming out of his room a zillion times after he goes to bed. It's always something—a bathroom trip, a drink of water, a question he needs to ask us, etc. To combat this, we first tried the good old-fashioned punishment method: If you come out of your room again, we add five minutes to the time you can get up tomorrow. (He's normally allowed to come out of his room at 7 a.m.) That didn't work--the following morning ended up having at least half an hour of screaming and protesting.

Okay, maybe we should've expected that: Consequences are supposed to be immediate. So we tried to take things away if he came out of his room after bedtime: Okay, if you come out of your room again, we take away your stars (which project on his ceiling for 30 minutes). That didn't work either—tantrums, screaming, frustration for both Theo and us. No good.

Plan C: Positive reinforcement. Always the best plan, according to "the experts," but it tends to backfire with Theo. Nevertheless, we tried it: If you stay in bed calmly for 15 minutes, we'll come in and read you a chapter from your book. Usually if he could make it 15 minutes, he'd stay in bed after that. Only problem is, sometimes he'd fall asleep before the 15 minutes had passed, and then he'd wake up furious at 2 a.m. and demand that we read a chapter from the book to him. (Naturally, we didn't—but it did result in a lot of fussing at 2 a.m. Trying the "we'll read it to you in the morning" trick didn't work.)

So we shortened the 15 minutes: If you stay in bed calmly for 10 minutes, we'll come in and read a story to you. Only problem is, last night I had to participate in an online chat with my students from 7 to 8. So Chris was in charge of bedtime for both boys. And Sam needed to go to bed right after he put Theo to bed—he was sick and fussy. So we told Theo that Chris might take a little extra time getting to his story, because Sammy was sick and needed to go to bed, and it might take a few extra minutes. And Mommy was working and couldn't be bothered.

You can guess where this is going: Within a few minutes of Chris closing Theo's door and going in to put Sam to bed (which takes about 20 minutes sometimes), Theo was out in the hallway asking for his story. He started very politely, and I poked my head out of the office and said, "You're going to have to wait longer tonight, buddy. Daddy's putting Sam to bed and I'm working. Go back in your room, and I'll send Daddy in when he's finished putting Sam to bed. But you need to stay in your room—I can't help you right now."

That didn't work. He continued to stand out in the hall and demand his story. I decided to ignore him. My students were firing questions at me, and I couldn't be interrupted. Besides, ignoring negative behavior is a valid strategy, right? Most often, they're trying to get attention.

He got louder and louder and more demanding. Chris came out and told him, calmly, to go to bed. Theo demanded his story. Chris calmly told him that he could try again tomorrow night for a story, but tonight he wouldn't get one because he hadn't stayed in his room, which he knew he had to do.

World War III erupted. Screaming. Crying. Demanding his story. Chris held firm and kept repeating that it was bedtime, and there was no story tonight. We've been accused of explaining too much to Theo, so these days we just repeat a simple answer over and over. And so, no matter what Theo tried (and he tried many angles), Chris kept repeating, "It's bedtime. We're not doing a story tonight. You can try again tomorrow."

Finally, Theo angrily said, "I keep saying different things, and you keep saying the same thing!"

Chris replied, "Yes--and what does that tell you?" He was assuming, of course, that the answer would be, "That I can't have a story."

Nope. Theo promptly answered, "That you're not listening to me!"

I see the parenting approach of "keep your answers simple and consistent" means different things to parent and child, in this case!

Tuesday, June 25, 2013

Healthy Ego

I love the confidence of young kids. Theo's was on full display yesterday, when he met his new bus driver.

Driver: Oh, my—look at that beautiful head of curls! Aren't you a handsome young man?
Theo (very seriously): Yes.


Sunday, June 16, 2013

The Ailing "Peanut"

Theo has a urinary tract infection, and he is not happy about it (understandably). But in his world, all he understands is that it really really hurts to pee--and his "member" hurts. Now, Theo knows and uses the correct terminology for anatomy, but because I don't really want this blog post to get hits from perverts trolling the Internet for nastiness, I'm going to substitute the similar-sounding name of a nut for the actual word he used. You can fill in the blanks and imagine how much fun our conversations were today, as we attempted to salvage Father's Day despite having a rather ailing kindergartner in tow.

We headed over to Half Moon Bay to enjoy a cool day at the beach, and our first stop was a farmer's market, where Theo loudly announced, "I don't want to go potty! I don't like my 'peanut' sores! I don't want blood to come out of my 'peanut'!"

After explaining that it's not really polite to talk about "peanuts" in public (and dragging the poor kid into the bathroom, where he screamed mightily while attempting to urinate), we went to our next stop: a fancy-pants grocery store to pick up some food for a picnic lunch. This grocery store had a little cafe area, and several people were enjoying their lunch when Theo came bolting out of the bathroom (where Chris had taken him for yet another pee attempt), ran over to me, and loudly announced, "Mommy, I peed all over the floor! Because that's what you do when your 'peanut' is sick--you pee all over the floor!"

We reiterated the lesson that it's not polite to talk about "peanuts" in public, but Theo doesn't really grasp such things. So after we settled ourselves at a table outside to eat (having decided that it was a bit windy for a picnic on the beach), naturally Theo launched into more "peanut" talk: "Mommy, my 'peanut' says it doesn't have to pee until tomorrow. We'll get my medicine today, and I'll feel better tomorrow. Then my 'peanut' says I can pee again." "Mommy, why is my 'peanut' sick? I don't want to have a sick 'peanut'!" And so on and so forth...

And finally, after spending a nice hour at the beach, we headed for home. And at least we were safely in the car when Theo asked if we could go home, and I replied, half-jokingly, "Soon. First we have to stop at Kaiser to get your medicine so your 'peanut' will be happy again." And he replied, "Yes, Mom. My 'peanut' is not happy. My 'peanut' is very, very serious today."

Indeed. It was not a happy day for "peanuts"....

How Babies Are Made

I knew this time would come eventually. Today, Theo came out with the age-old question: "Mommy, how do you get a baby in your tummy?"

Naturally, he broke this out at a rather inconvenient time (the middle of a parking lot, heading into a store so he could use the bathroom urgently). So I wasn't inclined to get into discussions of eggs and sperm and all that good stuff. Instead, I just said, "That's a very good question, but it's one we'll talk about when you're older. For now, let's just say it's magic."

Never one to let things go, Theo announced, "I don't think it's magic, Mommy. I think it's the baby rocket. The baby rides into your tummy on the baby rocket!"

Certainly, this is a clever idea...and I had to stifle a giggle as I thought about the true delivery method of sperm to egg (at least in most cases). Hmmm, "baby rocket"--a new euphemism for the male anatomy?!

Wednesday, June 12, 2013

Music Critic

Growing up, one of Chris's neighbors was an older boy named John Ottman. Chris actually had a bit part in one of John's first films--a home movie that included a bunch of the neighborhood kids. John is now a successful composer and film editor in Hollywood, and he recently composed the score for the movie X-Men 2, among others. John's mom, Mary, gave Theo a copy of the X-Men 2 CD, as she knows Theo loves music, and she's rather keen on Theo because he reminds her of John as a boy.
Anyway, Theo wanted to listen to the CD, so I put it on. And he was commenting that at the beginning of the score, it's "pretty, beautiful, classical music--not scary at all!" And then as we got further into the score, he excitedly said, "Now this is scary music, Mommy! I think when this music is on in the movie, it's when the scary men come! What do the scary men do?"
I replied that I didn't know, given that I haven't seen the movie. I said, "You could ask Daddy. I think he might've seen it."
Instead of waiting for Chris to get home, Theo took matters into his own hands and decided that the "scary men" come in and "pull their shirts over their head like this and ROAR!!!"
He may indeed be right. In case you haven't seen the movie, this is apparently what the scary men do:

His Favorite Things...

Whoa, it's been a while since I posted! Sorry 'bout that. Anyway, here's a new post that is just perfectly Theo for you. :-)
This past weekend, Sam and I took a trip to Seattle to visit my best friend. Theo stayed home with Chris, and they had a big weekend full of fun things. On Friday they took a city bus ride, a BART ride, and enjoyed a special dinner at McDonald's and a trip to the bookstore. On Saturday, they made fresh-squeezed orange juice, went to Theo's soccer game and then went to Genentech's huge family/charity event, Genentech Gives Back, where Theo got to see a rock concert (including Train, who he actually quite likes). On Sunday, they went to visit Grandma Kathy and Papa, and Theo got to go swimming and do lots of fun stuff with Grandma Kathy.
So, when I got back on Sunday and heard about all of this, I was surprised when he answered my question of "what was your favorite thing you did this weekend?" with: "Washed the dishes."And he really meant it! Apparently at some point, he had asked Chris if he could wash the dishes, and Chris happily set him up with a sponge, water, and some dishes. And evidently that was the highlight of his weekend.
I'm going to remind him of this when he's about 10 years old and whining about not wanting to do the dishes....