Tuesday – The Jungle
Feb. 9th, 2011 12:14 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ninanevermore.
.
.
Sweet Pea has forgiven his father, and I am glad. Just last night he said he never would, and that he planned to run away and never see his dad again. He was serious. His face was long and flushed like he was trying very hard to be brave and not cry. But can you blame him? What if your father were as cold hearted and cruel as his, and told you that there would be no TV or time on the computer FOR A WHOLE EVENING?
You’d hate that person, too.
It all started because Sweet Pea had a No Good, Very Bad Day at school, and the Ninjas on the PASS team had written out the details for us to sign off on. He was "angry all day." He kicked his teacher. He pushed the PE Teacher off of the stool she was sitting on. He threw pencils at people. They gave his day a rating of Poor.
Mind you, the standard set forth in his Behavioral Intervention Plan him are not terribly strict. Everyone at the IEP meeting was pretty certain that this was not a child who is even capable of model behavior at his current state of development. If he is good 80% of the day or better, his day is rated as Good. 60% to 79% is rated as Average. Less than that, and it’s Poor. Sweet Pea doesn’t realize that the rest of us don’t get to act up for 40% of the day and have that count as not so bad. I, for one, would like to have a BIP to show the police the next time I get pulled over for a ticket. What percentage would you say I was going over the speed limit? Oh, that's all. See, it says right here that I'm allowed some leeway. Yeah, I'll forgive you for bothering me and pulling me over. You have a nice day, too.
Jeff was getting ready to leave for work when I brought Sweet Pea home from the afterschool program (where he had been well behaved, having got it all out of his system earlier in the day). He pulled Sweet Pea onto his lap to discuss the day, which Sweet Pea did not want to discuss, while I read off report. Sweet Pea tried to crawl off of his father and burry himself in the couch cushions. Negative emotions overwhelm him. Anger is the worst, and the outbursts he has at school (but never at home) are legendary. But emotions like embarrassment also tend to throw him for a loop.
“Tell me what happened,” Jeff said.
“I don’t remember!”
“Yes, you do.”
“No, I don’t! You’re lying if you say I do!”
“Why did you kick Ms. F______?”
“Because she said something I didn’t like!”
“Are you allowed to kick people?”
“No! I know that!” His body was stiff and his arms were straight down by his sides, with his hands balled tightly into fists. He had his eyes shut tight, and his face was red. He does know this. But when he is angry, he has told us he can't think, so what he knows doesn't come into play. At school, he is angry a lot.
“Why did you push the PE teacher off of her stool?”
“I didn't!”
“It says in the report that you did.”
“I pushed her, but I don’t remember her falling! I don’t remember that part!”
Jeff kept his voice calm conversational. In the parts of the dialog where I spoke, I did the same. Anyone watching who was not familiar with our world would probably jump to the conclusion that this is a spoiled brat and that we coddle him. I heard a woman at work today talking about her sister, who has a little boy who does some of the same things that my son does. ”If that were my kid, his butt would be black and blue by that point. We’d be in the house and he’d be in the corner and we’d come to an understanding. But my sister, she goes and gets him when he doesn’t come to her. She just keeps talking to him when he starts shouting. Her other kid, my niece, she’s fine. But my nephew is out of control, and I can see that it’s my sister’s fault. Everyone can.”
I suggested that some kids are harder to bring up than others, and that maybe her sister was doing what she had to do. What works best. “Oh, no,” I was told, “I know you have problems with you son, but I nephew is not like that. With him, it’s his mother’s fault. Believe me.”
There are probably people out there who think that Sweet Pea’s issues are because Jeff and I are lousy parents. And we are far from perfect. As nuts and bolts kind of people, we have relied on trial and error. We have tried the time outs. We have tried shouting. We have tried corporal punishment. Each time, they caused the situation to escalate, and with Sweet Pea, that escalation is off the charts. Some children don’t react to these standard forms of punishment in a typical way. We don’t use calm voices, constant redirection, and withholding privileges because we are gushy New Age wimps. After we exhausted ourselves with all the other stuff, the figured out what works and decided to run with it. Even though it makes us look like mushy, gushy New Age wimps.
“Okay, since you did all these things at school today, you can’t watch any TV or play on the computer tonight.”
There was a wail on anguish. Jeff went to work, and I spend the evening fixing dinner for Sweet Pea, feeding him, bathing him, and putting him to bed, while he told me about how he no longer cared for his father and was planning to run away. He pretty much kept up topic for two hours, until it was time to read stories and turn in for the night.
“I’m going to run away.”
“Where will you go.”
“I don’t know. The jungle?”
“Sounds exciting.”
“But I don’t love Daddy anymore.”
“I bet he still loves you.”
“But why did he say no TV and no computer?”
“Because you kicked one teacher and pushed another. And you threw pencils at people,” I reminded him.
“Well, I DO NOT LIKE that Daddy said I could not be on the computer tonight!”
“I’m sorry. Maybe you can be tomorrow, if you have at good day at school.”
“I hate daddy!”
“Are you allowed to say that?”
“But I’m mad at him!”
“But hate is different than being mad. Mad burns off. Hate is…” I tried to think of how to describe hate. I’ve felt it before, and it’s ugly. But no emotion is easy to put into words. “Hate is like being mad at someone forever. And you will forgive Daddy.”
“How do you know?”
“Because you’re mad at him, but you love him. And he loves you. You can love people and still get mad at them.”
He seemed to ponder this for a big.
Tonight was the start of Jeff’s weekend. We came in the house and Sweet Pea ran into the bedroom to wake his father up.
“Tell him what kind of day you had,” I said. We had already read and discussed his daily reports. He apparently did not surpass his allotted 20% misbehavior limit, and no one got hurt. Sweet.
“Good!” Sweet Pea announced.
“Great!” said Jeff, opening his eyes. “Come here, I’ve missed you. I’ve been thinking about you all day.”
“You have?” Sweet Pea asked, impressed.
“All day long.”
Sweet Pea cuddled up to his father and they talked and tickled each other for a bit, until Jeff told him to follow me out of the room and go get some supper (this meant he wanted to go back to sleep).
“Can I watch some TV?” Sweet Pea asked.
"After supper," I said, "For a little while."
All was forgiven, and the household peace was restored.. My 6 year old doesn’t have to learn how to survive in the jungle on his own, after all.
* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * # * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *
.
.
Sweet Pea has forgiven his father, and I am glad. Just last night he said he never would, and that he planned to run away and never see his dad again. He was serious. His face was long and flushed like he was trying very hard to be brave and not cry. But can you blame him? What if your father were as cold hearted and cruel as his, and told you that there would be no TV or time on the computer FOR A WHOLE EVENING?
You’d hate that person, too.
It all started because Sweet Pea had a No Good, Very Bad Day at school, and the Ninjas on the PASS team had written out the details for us to sign off on. He was "angry all day." He kicked his teacher. He pushed the PE Teacher off of the stool she was sitting on. He threw pencils at people. They gave his day a rating of Poor.
Mind you, the standard set forth in his Behavioral Intervention Plan him are not terribly strict. Everyone at the IEP meeting was pretty certain that this was not a child who is even capable of model behavior at his current state of development. If he is good 80% of the day or better, his day is rated as Good. 60% to 79% is rated as Average. Less than that, and it’s Poor. Sweet Pea doesn’t realize that the rest of us don’t get to act up for 40% of the day and have that count as not so bad. I, for one, would like to have a BIP to show the police the next time I get pulled over for a ticket. What percentage would you say I was going over the speed limit? Oh, that's all. See, it says right here that I'm allowed some leeway. Yeah, I'll forgive you for bothering me and pulling me over. You have a nice day, too.
Jeff was getting ready to leave for work when I brought Sweet Pea home from the afterschool program (where he had been well behaved, having got it all out of his system earlier in the day). He pulled Sweet Pea onto his lap to discuss the day, which Sweet Pea did not want to discuss, while I read off report. Sweet Pea tried to crawl off of his father and burry himself in the couch cushions. Negative emotions overwhelm him. Anger is the worst, and the outbursts he has at school (but never at home) are legendary. But emotions like embarrassment also tend to throw him for a loop.
“Tell me what happened,” Jeff said.
“I don’t remember!”
“Yes, you do.”
“No, I don’t! You’re lying if you say I do!”
“Why did you kick Ms. F______?”
“Because she said something I didn’t like!”
“Are you allowed to kick people?”
“No! I know that!” His body was stiff and his arms were straight down by his sides, with his hands balled tightly into fists. He had his eyes shut tight, and his face was red. He does know this. But when he is angry, he has told us he can't think, so what he knows doesn't come into play. At school, he is angry a lot.
“Why did you push the PE teacher off of her stool?”
“I didn't!”
“It says in the report that you did.”
“I pushed her, but I don’t remember her falling! I don’t remember that part!”
Jeff kept his voice calm conversational. In the parts of the dialog where I spoke, I did the same. Anyone watching who was not familiar with our world would probably jump to the conclusion that this is a spoiled brat and that we coddle him. I heard a woman at work today talking about her sister, who has a little boy who does some of the same things that my son does. ”If that were my kid, his butt would be black and blue by that point. We’d be in the house and he’d be in the corner and we’d come to an understanding. But my sister, she goes and gets him when he doesn’t come to her. She just keeps talking to him when he starts shouting. Her other kid, my niece, she’s fine. But my nephew is out of control, and I can see that it’s my sister’s fault. Everyone can.”
I suggested that some kids are harder to bring up than others, and that maybe her sister was doing what she had to do. What works best. “Oh, no,” I was told, “I know you have problems with you son, but I nephew is not like that. With him, it’s his mother’s fault. Believe me.”
There are probably people out there who think that Sweet Pea’s issues are because Jeff and I are lousy parents. And we are far from perfect. As nuts and bolts kind of people, we have relied on trial and error. We have tried the time outs. We have tried shouting. We have tried corporal punishment. Each time, they caused the situation to escalate, and with Sweet Pea, that escalation is off the charts. Some children don’t react to these standard forms of punishment in a typical way. We don’t use calm voices, constant redirection, and withholding privileges because we are gushy New Age wimps. After we exhausted ourselves with all the other stuff, the figured out what works and decided to run with it. Even though it makes us look like mushy, gushy New Age wimps.
“Okay, since you did all these things at school today, you can’t watch any TV or play on the computer tonight.”
There was a wail on anguish. Jeff went to work, and I spend the evening fixing dinner for Sweet Pea, feeding him, bathing him, and putting him to bed, while he told me about how he no longer cared for his father and was planning to run away. He pretty much kept up topic for two hours, until it was time to read stories and turn in for the night.
“I’m going to run away.”
“Where will you go.”
“I don’t know. The jungle?”
“Sounds exciting.”
“But I don’t love Daddy anymore.”
“I bet he still loves you.”
“But why did he say no TV and no computer?”
“Because you kicked one teacher and pushed another. And you threw pencils at people,” I reminded him.
“Well, I DO NOT LIKE that Daddy said I could not be on the computer tonight!”
“I’m sorry. Maybe you can be tomorrow, if you have at good day at school.”
“I hate daddy!”
“Are you allowed to say that?”
“But I’m mad at him!”
“But hate is different than being mad. Mad burns off. Hate is…” I tried to think of how to describe hate. I’ve felt it before, and it’s ugly. But no emotion is easy to put into words. “Hate is like being mad at someone forever. And you will forgive Daddy.”
“How do you know?”
“Because you’re mad at him, but you love him. And he loves you. You can love people and still get mad at them.”
He seemed to ponder this for a big.
Tonight was the start of Jeff’s weekend. We came in the house and Sweet Pea ran into the bedroom to wake his father up.
“Tell him what kind of day you had,” I said. We had already read and discussed his daily reports. He apparently did not surpass his allotted 20% misbehavior limit, and no one got hurt. Sweet.
“Good!” Sweet Pea announced.
“Great!” said Jeff, opening his eyes. “Come here, I’ve missed you. I’ve been thinking about you all day.”
“You have?” Sweet Pea asked, impressed.
“All day long.”
Sweet Pea cuddled up to his father and they talked and tickled each other for a bit, until Jeff told him to follow me out of the room and go get some supper (this meant he wanted to go back to sleep).
“Can I watch some TV?” Sweet Pea asked.
"After supper," I said, "For a little while."
All was forgiven, and the household peace was restored.. My 6 year old doesn’t have to learn how to survive in the jungle on his own, after all.
