I. Wheels. There was a time when we heard talk of a certain nursery age child who spent most of nursery running a little red car back and forth. We thought it was hilarious.
And then our son became that child, and it became even more hilarious. I don't know that he's necessarily like that for nursery, but if we're ever in the church gym that is pretty much the only thing he does. Today I was at the church gym exercising, and each time I was trying to do a squat, there was Joseph, ready to run a red car through the tunnel I had created. Actually, he got a couple of kids to copy him, creating a brigade running beneath my legs. I felt pretty proud of myself.
But of course his obsession with wheels extends far beyond the walls of our holy edifice. Somehow, a little blue car made its way to our corner of the complex, and there it has remained. Joseph dubbed it his motorcycle, and for a few weeks he could spend a solid hour at a time just going around and around our little courtyard. At first I was annoyed with it because it made it impossible to really go anywhere without him insisting on riding his motorcycle. We didn't make it to the other side of the neighborhood for that whole duration.
But then I realized that I could finally achieve my dream of being a distracted parent outside, so I would sit on my front step with a book or laptop (still haven't mastered touchscreens enough to even consider a smart device) and gchat with whomever while watching my child go round and round and round. It was glorious.
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| Here is another child enabling his wheel obsession. |
But the good times were not going to last forever. October came, and with it came a Thomas the Tank Engine bike from our neighbors in a purging mood. There is something about that sonorous children's television show that sucks all children into all of its merchandise. That, or maybe it's just that it was another object with wheels.
Either way, the motorcycle has been almost entirely forgotten.
Unlike the carefree motorcycle, this bike requires a lot of undistracted parenting. I have to get his helmet on him. I have to help him move since he can't quite push the pedals hard enough.
And I have to do it just right. None of this pushing the back of the bike with my foot. No, in order for this to be enjoyable, he insists that I have one hand on his back, one hand on the handlebar, and we need to stay at the proper speed, which is always a surprise. (I rarely last long.)
I keep planning to hide that bike. Maybe I should do it right now.
II. Puzzles. Our neighbors also bequeathed us several puzzles as they prepare to move. One of them was sort of sneaky. One day we suddenly found ourselves with a musical puzzle that plays "Old McDonald" as you put the instruments back into their proper spots. Yeah, I should probably hide that one the same place I hide the bike.
But the other recent puzzle they gave us has been pretty much the best thing ever. It's a 12 piece wooden puzzle, which means the pieces stay together once they match, but since it's a real puzzle it's a lot more interesting.
The best part about it though is how much Joseph loves it. He puts it together while giving commentary on all the animals on the farm, then takes it apart and does it again. The other day it was inching closer and closer to his naptime, and he still kept repeating it.
And then he did it lying down with his eyes basically closed.
I hope he loves this puzzle for a long time.
III. Supposed. There are some things that Joseph picks up that I can't quite trace. He's been jumping like a frog, and I'm not sure who taught him that. I'm not sure where he picked up some of his dance moves.
But I'm guessing he picked up "We're not supposed to" from either Kevin or me. Or maybe Daniel Tiger, but that's less likely.
"Joseph, do you want to go play somewhere else?"
"No, we're not supposed to."
"Joseph, do you want to draw?"
"No, we're not supposed to draw."
"You need a diaper change!"
"We're not supposed to change my diaper."
Sometimes, I feel like my hopes and dreams get a little dashed when he tells me this. I wonder if I'm supposed to not say "not supposed to" so much.
IV. Time. We can't really blame this one on anyone but ourselves. You say enough "It's story time!" "It's dinner time!" "It's bath time!" and eventually, your kid is going to rebel. And he's going to know how to use the language.
"Joseph, it's nap time!"
"It's not nap time. It's donut time!" (He didn't get the donut, but nor did he take the nap.)
"We need to come in and eat dinner!"
"No! It's not time to eat dinner! It's time to ride the bike!!!"
Lately, I've been introduced to lots of different times -- Daniel Tiger time, cracker time, peanut butter swanwich time, shorts time, cake time, and mostly "time to play outside" after the sun has set.
Sometimes, when he's feeling less combative, he likes to respond with "Not right now." And speaking of things he's acquired from our Canadian neighbors, he says "now" in a Canadian accent. Which softens the blow, I'll admit.
Despite our adventures in new power struggles and battles of wills, he certainly keeps us happy, and it's always exciting to see him growing up.
And I really should go hide that bike now.
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