Tuesday – A Fine First Day
Aug. 24th, 2010 02:34 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ninanevermore.
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My father called last night to ask how my son’s first day of Kindergarten went. After my son’s forcible expulsion from daycare a year and a half ago and the behavior problems that took him almost a year to resolve afterward, my dad worries. Since the last year hasn’t been too bad and did so well with his last babysitter and her kids, I was less worried.
“Is he close by?” my father asked.
“Yes, but he’s stuffing his face with pizza.”
“Oh. Well. I guess I don’t have to talk to him…”
“No, hold on.” I held the receiver to my son’s ear. “Tell your grandpa how your first day of school went.”
“Fine,” Sweet Pea said, “I didn’t get in trouble.” He took another bite of pizza and chewed while he listened to his grandfather talk. He nodded his head at something my father told him, then said, “Okay, bye.”
I took the receiver back. “See? It went pretty good. He seems willing to go back tomorrow.”
“That’s good. We were a little concerned.” My father and his wife fret a bit more than I think they should over Sweet Pea. He is an intense and sensitive who responds strongly to his environment. A few days that he spent in their care with my stepmother’s youngest grandson, who is the same age, have them convinced that my son may have “problems.” His cousin is far more laid back than Sweet Pea. He is adventuresome, whereas Sweet Pea is reserved. He goes with the flow, whereas Sweet Pea figured out how to manipulate his grandparents by doing things like stiffening up and refusing to move when they didn’t walk toward the zoo attraction he wanted to see. He likes to play the drama card.
“What do you do when he does that?” my stepmother asked.
You keep walking and say, Fine. I’m going this way. If you want to stay here by yourself, that’s up to you. Once you get about 20 feet away from him, he’ll coming running after you, red faced and teary eyed, asking incredulously, Were you just going to leave me there? By myself?! You then tell him that if he doesn’t want to be left by himself, he had better make an effort to be good and stay close to you. It would stop there and he wouldn’t give a repeat the performance over and over again the way he did with his grandparents. My stepmother was mortified at the idea, since the zoo was crowded that day and who knows who might have grabbed my son and run off with him? I happen to know that if a stranger were to try to pick my son up, the screams would have been so loud that everyone within 10 miles of the Houston Zoo that day would have heard them and turned to look. He doesn’t like strangers.
I think it boils down to basic personality differences. Not all kids are the same, just like not all adults are the same. Some are easier to handle than others. My nephew is easier to handle than my son; that’s just the way the cookie crumbles. I don’t get so worked up over my son’s personality quirks, no doubt in large part because I have lived with his sensitive, intense, reserved-yet-dramatic father for many years now, and I know where a lot of them came from.
The first day of school went fine. They went on the gingerbread man hunt as promised, and they found him, too.
“It wasn’t a real gingerbread man; it was just a costume,” he told me.
“Where was he hiding?” I asked.
“In the cafeteria. And then when we found him, the gingerbread man and the teacher gave the kids real gingerbread men!” This last part made him laugh when he told me about it. He hunted a gingerbread man! He found him! And he got a cookie for his troubles! Awesome!
“If they have an open house one of these days, let us know,” my father said last night. “We’d like to come and see what his school looks like.”
I promised to do this as soon as I heard any news.
“Were you going to call us tonight and let us know how it went today?” my dad asked. “You weren’t, were you? Shame on you. Well, good thing I called you. Keep us posted on how he does, all right?”
I said I would, hoping he could tell that I was rolling my eyes at his guilt trip when I did.
“Hmmm!” he said, before hanging up.
Yeah, he heard it.
* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * # * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *
.
.
My father called last night to ask how my son’s first day of Kindergarten went. After my son’s forcible expulsion from daycare a year and a half ago and the behavior problems that took him almost a year to resolve afterward, my dad worries. Since the last year hasn’t been too bad and did so well with his last babysitter and her kids, I was less worried.
“Is he close by?” my father asked.
“Yes, but he’s stuffing his face with pizza.”
“Oh. Well. I guess I don’t have to talk to him…”
“No, hold on.” I held the receiver to my son’s ear. “Tell your grandpa how your first day of school went.”
“Fine,” Sweet Pea said, “I didn’t get in trouble.” He took another bite of pizza and chewed while he listened to his grandfather talk. He nodded his head at something my father told him, then said, “Okay, bye.”
I took the receiver back. “See? It went pretty good. He seems willing to go back tomorrow.”
“That’s good. We were a little concerned.” My father and his wife fret a bit more than I think they should over Sweet Pea. He is an intense and sensitive who responds strongly to his environment. A few days that he spent in their care with my stepmother’s youngest grandson, who is the same age, have them convinced that my son may have “problems.” His cousin is far more laid back than Sweet Pea. He is adventuresome, whereas Sweet Pea is reserved. He goes with the flow, whereas Sweet Pea figured out how to manipulate his grandparents by doing things like stiffening up and refusing to move when they didn’t walk toward the zoo attraction he wanted to see. He likes to play the drama card.
“What do you do when he does that?” my stepmother asked.
You keep walking and say, Fine. I’m going this way. If you want to stay here by yourself, that’s up to you. Once you get about 20 feet away from him, he’ll coming running after you, red faced and teary eyed, asking incredulously, Were you just going to leave me there? By myself?! You then tell him that if he doesn’t want to be left by himself, he had better make an effort to be good and stay close to you. It would stop there and he wouldn’t give a repeat the performance over and over again the way he did with his grandparents. My stepmother was mortified at the idea, since the zoo was crowded that day and who knows who might have grabbed my son and run off with him? I happen to know that if a stranger were to try to pick my son up, the screams would have been so loud that everyone within 10 miles of the Houston Zoo that day would have heard them and turned to look. He doesn’t like strangers.
I think it boils down to basic personality differences. Not all kids are the same, just like not all adults are the same. Some are easier to handle than others. My nephew is easier to handle than my son; that’s just the way the cookie crumbles. I don’t get so worked up over my son’s personality quirks, no doubt in large part because I have lived with his sensitive, intense, reserved-yet-dramatic father for many years now, and I know where a lot of them came from.
The first day of school went fine. They went on the gingerbread man hunt as promised, and they found him, too.
“It wasn’t a real gingerbread man; it was just a costume,” he told me.
“Where was he hiding?” I asked.
“In the cafeteria. And then when we found him, the gingerbread man and the teacher gave the kids real gingerbread men!” This last part made him laugh when he told me about it. He hunted a gingerbread man! He found him! And he got a cookie for his troubles! Awesome!
“If they have an open house one of these days, let us know,” my father said last night. “We’d like to come and see what his school looks like.”
I promised to do this as soon as I heard any news.
“Were you going to call us tonight and let us know how it went today?” my dad asked. “You weren’t, were you? Shame on you. Well, good thing I called you. Keep us posted on how he does, all right?”
I said I would, hoping he could tell that I was rolling my eyes at his guilt trip when I did.
“Hmmm!” he said, before hanging up.
Yeah, he heard it.
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no subject
Date: 2010-08-24 08:32 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-08-24 08:52 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-08-24 09:15 pm (UTC)Yes, aunt Jo likes to tell other people how to raise their children. Because she never had any problem with her child, so why not pass along her wisdom... (*whistles and looks askance*);-*
no subject
Date: 2010-08-24 09:22 pm (UTC)I call my son's bluff, and it works great. I'm never far enough away that I don't know where he is or that it puts him in any danger. My stepmother is the sort of person who worries about things that could happen but probably won't. Me? Not so much.
no subject
Date: 2010-08-25 12:41 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-08-25 12:11 pm (UTC)lol :-p
no subject
Date: 2010-08-25 06:19 pm (UTC)