Shoes stomp on the chair and make the bass line boom.
Fork taps on the bowl brings the beats in the room.
Pots bang and crash adding cymbals to his tune.
Clap clap little hands on this night in June.
He’s a one man percussion band. The crowd went wild.
Some time ago I wrote about my desire to make recognizable Play-Doh animals. I thought this would be a good skill to have as a parent. What fun we’d have making our own little zoo full of creatures. But, I’ve since discovered that this was completely wrong and misguided. My child has absolutely no interest in Play-Doh animals.
First, he much prefers Plasticine, modeling clay. It’s harder to work with but it’s sturdier and creates things you can really hold on to and play with.
Second, he couldn’t care less about animals. I once tried to make an elephant and he ended up in tears smashing it to pieces. All he wants is cars, trucks, or trains. We once made every character is one of his books. Dumptruck Dan, Monster Truck Max, Cement Mixer Melvin, etc. We’ve also made most of the cast from Thomas the Tank Engine. So instead, I’ve become skilled at making dump trucks, cement mixers, and trains with smokestacks and cranes. All with lots and lots of wheels.
And he’ll play with them for hours creating little stories and conversations among the characters in his little clay motor pool. Which is all I ever wanted.
Is there a parenting lesson in all this? I think so. Sometimes you’ve got to give up your dreams for your children and let them follow the dreams they have for themselves. Because maybe their dream is even better than what you imagined.
Take that animal kingdom.
I‘ve mentioned before our struggles letting the dentist into the circle of trust.
But, well, 3rd time lucky it seems. This time,
…we sat in the chair,
…we opened our mouth,
…we looked up, we looked down,
…and, we let the dentist stick his latex covered fingers in our mouth.
I confess that bribery was involved. A trip to the toy shop to get a train was promised. But as a parent, you’ve got to use all the tools available to you, and sometimes that means stone cold bribery.
Welcome to the circle of trust Dr. Elephant.
Two bowls of Cheerios and a bowl of fresh-cut strawberries decorate the table. Mum is savoring her first cup of coffee for the day. In the center of the table is a vase full of pink and white blooms announcing the arrival of spring.
Boy: Look at the flowers.
Mum: Yes, they are very pretty. Did you pick those out?
Boy: Yes, for Mummy.
Mum: Thank you little man, I love them, they’re beautiful.
Boy: You’re very welcome Mummy.
Boy: I love you Mummy.
Mum: [Cries]
For as long as I can remember, my little man has been obsessed with carrying around what I call “modes of transport.” Cars, trucks, trains, heavy machinery. They’ve all come along on our various adventures, imprisoned by the kung-fu grip of one of his tiny little hands.
It’s not the same thing every day. Sometimes they’re small things, sometimes they’re inappropriately large things. Some days he can even go without. But on the days he’s chosen to carry around a little plastic friend, he becomes so attached that it’s near impossible to get him to do anything without holding it. He’s carried a plastic train into his swimming lesson. A large Playmobil fire engine accompanied us to the dentist and then to the shops. And just last week I dropped my son off at school where he proudly introduced his teacher to a lump of clay he called “Harvey.”
Occasionally, I’ve adopted the tactic of hiding the item in the hopes that he’d forget it existed. But that doesn’t work anymore. He remembers everything. A few weeks ago we embarked on a desperate bedtime mission to find the “pickup truck” he’d been carrying around. I honestly did not even know what the “pickup truck” was but it was lost. Thankfully, that night Daddy realized what it was and found it. It bears no resemblance to a pickup truck by the way.
Mostly, I don’t have the heart to take these things away from him. As I’ve said before, I am weak and unable to say no to him when it doesn’t really matter. And, if carrying around a little toy car is what gives him the confidence to get through his challenging toddler day, then why not?
What if someone took away the things we carry around all day, the things we’re attached to? If someone said to me, “right, that phone, I’m taking it away because you’re using it in too many inappropriate places.” I know I’d feel naked and incomplete.
Do you have things you carry around all day that you’d feel lost without?