Tuesday, January 20, 2004

LEARNING MACHINE (January 2004)

As a baby, in the days her routine consisted of sleeping, eating and pooping, Sophia mirrored Brandon’s behavior.  However, she’s now a year old and developing a personality and intelligence of her own.

In “Second Chance” I wrote about our use of signing and speaking when communicating with Brandon (and now Sophia).  Brandon seemed to grasp the concept and use it much earlier than Sophia has.  But now Sophia’s on board.  And she’s even developing her own signs.

She recognizes the sign for “drink” but doesn’t use it.  Instead she says “juice” (soos) or “milk” (mik) and, once she catches the eye of an adult, moves toward the kitchen to get a cup of her beverage of choice.  She does sign “eat” (tapping the fingers of one hand against her lips).  The sign for “more” is tapping the fingertips of both hands together.  Because she’s evidently going through a growth spurt, she frequently wants to eat -- and her sign combines eat and more: the fingertips of one hand against the palm of the other.

I have two cats and her family has a dog, so she’s learned the sign for cat (flick of fingers against cheek indicating whiskers) and dog (snapping of finger/thumb as if calling a dog to heel).  She is a book lover and will turns pages in one book signing “eat” to identify pages of food items.  There are pages of animals -- a cow, horse, pig, elephant, giraffe – and we’re working with her on these.  Brandon hasn’t forgotten the signs, so he, too, tries to teach her.  In fact, even though he knows their proper name is “giraffe,” he continues to refer to them as “long necks,” the sign for giraffe.

Daddy was her first intelligible word.  “Daddy” to come get her first thing in the morning.  “Daddy” to come get her after a nap.  Then she learned “Mommy.”  If Daddy doesn’t come get her quickly enough when summoned, she moves on to Mommy, calling louder and more often until she’s finally rescued from the confinement of her crib.

Sophia is easily frustrated and issues a deep-throated “arrrrghh!” when she can’t accomplish some task she’s undertaken.  She’s also been known to bonk herself on the head with her palm, as if asking, “What am I going to do?!”
All little people must like music.  She’ll stop whatever she’s doing when she hears a catchy tune.  Her response to the music will be to stamp her foot or turn in circles or hunch her shoulders and flex her knees in her interpretation of the beat.  And she grins as she moves.

Sophia’s now cutting back from two naps a day to one.  Once she picks up a fuzzy stuffed animal and puts her thumb in her mouth, it’s a subtle indication she’s ready for sleep.  We ask, “Are you ready for night-night?” and she races us to the bedroom.  Yes, sometimes it’s a false positive, and it appears she merely wanted to run, not go to bed.  Other times we get lucky.  Toy cuddled in her arm and held close to her cheek, thumb in her mouth, she’s quiet for a short time.  A respite for the latest high-intensity learning machine.

Copyright ©2004  Kitty Park

Saturday, May 10, 2003

THE NEGOTIATOR (May 2003)

A friend mentioned last week her sadness about disciplining her two-year-old granddaughter Jessica.  Been there myself.   You're beating yourself up for disciplining the tot and s/he's off in a corner figuring out another way to get to what s/he's been told numerous times in just as many ways s/he's not to touch.
Brandon's a button pusher.  He learned the phrasing and practice at home.  Dawn's said it many times, initially of Matt who knows what will irritate her and persists until she loses patience.   Now Matt and Brandon push one another's buttons, and Brandon's learned the lesson well.

Brandon may begin by asking.  Refused, he moves to pleading, inserting several 'pleases' with his request.  He even negotiates when he suspects a remaining chink in the adult's naysaying.  Somewhere along the line, when he realizes he's getting to my last nerve, Brandon grins (damn him!) and affirms, "I'm just pushing your buttons, Grandma."

If he's really serious about having/getting/doing something he's been denied, he will be dogged, going so far as to challenge authority.  Last week I stooped to corporal punishment.  He persisted in jumping with his feet and landing on his bottom in my easy chair even after repeated requests that he sit and not use it as a trampoline.  I convinced him of my resolution when I fulfilled the threat to smack his bare bottom (once I caught him).

When released and out of arm's reach, he turned and said, "That didn't hurt," to which I replied, "But it could have."   Either the logic of what I said made sense or, more likely, he lost interest in the challenge.  I don't care why, at least he didn't jump on the furniture again.

I'm sure the veterans of the Grandparents' Club are smirking at the problems yet to be faced.  I know: The problems won't end, they'll just change.

I'm going to go take a nap.  Just thinking of what's ahead has worn me out.



Copyright ©2003  Kitty Park

Friday, January 10, 2003

BLACK-EYED PEAS (January 2003)

Northern and southern New Year's Day traditions were blended when Roy and I were married over 35 years ago.  We ate my sauerkraut and pork with his black-eyed peas.  (The greens, to be eaten for monetary success, morphed into a lime Jell-O and pear concoction.)

Matt, Dawn's husband, is a man with distinct tastes.  He refuses to sample the sauerkraut (or pork since it cooks with the 'kraut) or black-eyed peas.  On New Year's Day he eats something else.

Unlike his dad, Brandon, now nearly three years old, wants to try everything.  Yesterday, while eating a bowl of black-eyed peas, Brandon said to me, "Grandma, you make good food."  I smiled at his praise.  That was right before he put a forkful of sauerkraut into his mouth.  And immediately spit it out on the tablecloth.



Copyright ©2003  Kitty Park

Wednesday, April 10, 2002

ON BEING TWO (April 2002)

Brandon's now two.  Not the terrible twos.  Rather, the curious twos.

He will still take an afternoon nap, but unless he's rocked to sleep, he'll entertain himself on the bed, fighting to stay awake.  One day he took his diaper off.  Last Monday he stood on the cabinet at the head of my bed, unscrewed a bulb in the light bridge and used it to smash the other.  I was close enough to hear the pop and him say, "Oh oh. Grandma!" as I rushed in.  He innocently looked at me and said, "I broked it."  After putting him in the rocker ("I rock myself, Grandma") while I vacuumed the shards, I reminded myself he can't be trusted to be out of sight.


Yesterday when I put him down and his thumb went into his mouth, I breathed a sigh since I knew he'd be asleep in moments.  Minutes later I heard him carrying on a whispering conversation with himself, and peeked into the room to see what he was doing.  Brandon was sitting in the bed, lotion everywhere.  The travel size container had been emptied onto his legs, hands and diaper.  The overflow was on the sheets and blanket.  When he saw me, he casually asked for a towel.  He was unashamed and eagerly set about cleaning up the mess.  When finished, Brandon announced "All done!" and held up his arms, indicating he was ready to be carried to the rocker where we went back and forth until he fell asleep.



Copyright ©2002  Kitty Park

Wednesday, October 10, 2001

THUM AND THUMBS (October 2001)

Brandon was denied a pacifier as an infant ... something about confusing it with the breast.  Eventually he adopted his thumb.  Well, in his case, BOTH thumbs.  He prefers the right, but will switch to the left if his right hand is otherwise occupied.  He isn't overly attentive to thumbsucking, but over a period of months, the right thumb is showing wear and the skin is cracking.  He'll hold it up and say, "Thumb hurts."

Dawn was told that Thum (available in our drug store right next to teething medications) is a deterrent.  So she got a bottle this week.  Contents: a solution containing cayenne pepper.

This morning Brandon again told Dawn his thumb hurts.  So she dabbed a bit of Thum on it, advising him that it was medicine and he should not put it in his mouth.  Without tasting it, Brandon asked to have a bit on his left thumb as well.  Then he put the sore thumb in his mouth, pulled it out, and with a puzzled look on his face followed by a smile, said, "Good!"  And asked for more.  Dawn obliged.  Sampled again, he offered his thumb to Matt and laughing, said, "Here, Daddy, taste!"

As a deterrent, obviously this isn't going to work.  Perhaps Thum should be used as a reward.  Put it on his left thumb.  In no time at all the right thumb will be healed.


Copyright ©2002  Kitty Park

Thursday, September 20, 2001

PICKING YOUR BATTLES (September 2001)

Why does a raised voice merely warrant a sideways glance before the imp continues with the taboo act?  Even when his hand is pulled away, which does no more than interrupt his forward motion, even when his hand is then swatted and finally his bottom, what compels that child to insist on doing what has been forbidden?

Brandon's not allowed to climb on the room divider.  Nor is he permitted to purposely drop his fork or spoon on the floor or pitch food off the plate when he's eaten his fill.  The first time he leaped from the sofa to the coffee table was his last.  Or it was supposed to be. Purses weren't exactly off limits, but items in them were.  I thought zippered containers were safe. Not any more.  Since his agenda requires that anything in his hand must pass into his mouth for sampling, Brandon had lipstick in his teeth before he experimented with graphic designs on his shorts.  His reaction when he spied his face in the mirror as I washed the red from in and around his mouth was priceless in its ecstatic reflection.

At twenty months, he's gained mobility, ability and the mental fortitude to satisfy his curiosity.  He's learned that rocks have no taste and that when they've sat in the sun, they may be hot.  He's found that mud puddles are more interesting than bath water and stomping in them is necessary.  If Maw stands too close and gets wet as a result, even better.  On our most recent walk, Brandon decided that we should both run.  He crowed at my effort to keep up with his toddler's stiff-legged run, pausing occasionally so I could rest and then urging, "Maw run; Brandon run."  We both took a nap that day.

He consents to hold my hand when we leave the car and move toward the grocery store.  I've explained that I need help walking in the street and it would be helpful if he'd hold my hand until we get to the curb.  Once there, he lets go of my finger, strolls to the carts and announces he'll "push buggy."  Bending at the waist and putting his hands on the crossbar, with me steering from behind, we amble along.

After we pass through the produce section, we enter the bakery area where free samples are provided.  Brandon releases his hold on the cart, turns and raises his arms, signifying that he's ready to be lifted to the basket's seat to have a snack.  There's nothing so endearing as his grin while he eats the fragment of angel food cake squished between his fingers or daintily nibbles a crumbled sugar cookie, rubbing his tummy, smiling and nodding his pleasure.

Yes, I'll let him splash in the mud puddles and wash the lipstick from his face and shorts.  Because I always win the shopping battle at the bakery.

Copyright ©2002  Kitty Park

Monday, September 10, 2001

CUSS WORDS (September 2001)

Brandon has reached the sponge stage of vocabulary development.  Those of you who've been parents can recall your failure to be judicious in your venting.  It is indeed amazing to observe how quickly, indeed expertly and spontaneously, those who are barely walking can use the cuss words in the proper context with absolutely no coaching.

There are also times when they voice socially undesirable words all on their own.  Brandon's having a little trouble putting different sounds together.  He went through the house helping Dawn pick up the other day and found his dad's socks.  Bringing them to her one by one he announced with each delivery, "Daddy's cock."  I do believe Matt will pick up his own socks for some time to come, but definitely until Brandon is able to say "sock" quite clearly.

Copyright ©2002  Kitty Park