No Substitute for a Good Personality

It's been a while, I guess, since I did any sort of progress report on the kid.  I also blew off Halloween, it seems.  Maybe I'll do a Halloween blog around Thanksgiving and backdate it.  Heh.  (He was a Ghostbuster. It was pretty cute, though I had succumbed to whatever the boys had before me and was too sick to care.)

First grade appears to be going all right so far.  The teacher did tell us she is starting to see the same habits he had in kindergarten, but we've had a conference on what we will do about this, and see if we can't boost his focus and motivation, and maybe nip it in the bud instead of let it drag on all year. 

The biggest issue still appears to be that he hums.  And I know he does; he hums all the time. When he's working, when he's playing, when he's watching TV.  He doesn't know he's doing it.  He stops when instructed, and it lasts for varying periods of time, but inevitably he starts up again. I'm testing different things at home and am thisclose to sending him to class with a giant jawbreaker each day since it seems he is quieter if his mouth is full. And gum -- well, no. No gum.

All that aside, however, he is also turning into this thinking and reasoning human being who is also starting to look like he might understand the concept of being useful as well. This morning I told him to feed the cats and put on his shoes. He disappeared. I called down to him about 5 minutes later and he answered, "Shoes are on. I fed the cats, and they already had water. Also, they were both already in the basement, so I just locked them down there now instead of trying to catch them before we leave."  I just about dropped my curling iron, it was all so reasonable yet above and beyond what I'd requested. 

He is also apparently more like his father than like me, in that he is developing into an utterly practical and consequence-oriented mindset. He and Not Your Average Blogger went grocery shopping without me on Saturday, and apparently had a bit of a back and forth about whether to buy Cheetos.  "Just do it," said the YP. "You'll want them later." NYAB ultimately opted against buying them and decided he'd just eat some other junk food we already had. Later that afternoon, though, when the Cheeto craving hit, NYAB said to the YP, "Hey, I really want some Cheetos." 

And the YP answers, "Well, you made your decision! Too bad!"

Yesterday, we got a very nice card in the mail from my friend Amy, who graciously ordered popcorn from the YP to boost his Scout cred and was passing along the check.  In the card, she told him that he was a great salesman and that she couldn't wait to taste her popcorn.  "Tell her thank you. And I'm sorry, but I guess she's just going to have to wait," was his response. I think I might have been irritated at the adult tone if I hadn't been laughing so hard.

Then again, it's not all sunshine.  Later on last night, he got his head handed to him after he spit at me that he wished I wasn't his mother.  I said, "Really. And what would you do then?"  He said, "I'd still have my dad!" I said, "Well, not right now you don't. So why don't you just see what it's like for little boys who have no mother? Go to your room."  He went, and I removed all the stuff he usually does to distract himself in there -- iPod, books, nightlight, etc. Then I closed the door and listened to him wail for about 5 minutes, and then he starts in, "Mom!! Moooommm!!"

And I go in and say, "Who are you talking to? You don't have one of those."

Tearful apologies and earnest assurance that he understood the concept that "some things cannot be taken back" ensued. He still went to bed without dinner, though.

And I think the lesson really did stick, because when NYAB got home hours later and talked to the YP about watching what one says, the YP's answer was a sober, "Yes. Because what you say might come true." 

The other odd exchange of the evening was more or less after the drama, but before complete resolution. We had covered why he was in trouble and why he couldn't come back downstairs, but that neither of us was angry any longer. I was puttering in another room and heard him chattering questions in between wind-down sobs. I go in.

"Who are you talking to?"
"I'm talking to G-O-D. Up there." (He spelled this out, and pointed at the ceiling.)
"What?"
"I'm talking to G-O-D! UP THERE." (Pointing more vehemently.)
"About what?"
"I'm asking him why he let me say those things in the first place if he knew it would get me in trouble and hurt your feelings."
"Uh. OK. What did God say?"
"He didn't answer."

Now, we are not a religious family. We do not pray. We do not go to church. He goes to public school, so you KNOW he's not getting religion there.  Where this came from, I have yet to determine.  I'm just profoundly grateful that God's not answering him -- yet, at least.

Comments

[cosmiccamper]

All kids have their quirks and idiosyncrities, so it's nice to see him growing up a pretty good kid!

[ardentdelerium]

"Yes. Because what you say might come true."

this totally reminded me of a class discussion about how kids around the 7-10 age tend to have a strong superstitious belief in this concept (although our semi-fictional example was that a child in a semi-autobiographical novel wished another child to be a victim of a local kidnapper/killer, and then the other child was--I'm glad for the YP that his lesson in this possibility was less severe)

probably another kid at school told him about God Up There. Other kids are how I found out about all sorts of stuff as a child, including the unreality of Santa (though my mother will STILL pitch a fit if I say he's not real)

[average blogger]

Ardent, that was what I thought, but I asked him yesterday why he was talking to God, and he said, "Because you were mad and I didn't know what to do." I asked where he'd heard about God, and he goes, "Daddy told me that God killed Jesus on that cross because God was angry, and if you were angry, I thought God might be too." Whaaa? I said, "When did you have this talk?" Answer: "At Easter." After I was done snickering, I sent him downstairs to talk to his dad and get the story straight. Talk about the fear of God!!!