Sunday, December 12, 2004
And I don't think she was teaching Max how to get dressed...
Yesterday evening I was trying to change Max's clothes so that we could rush out for a bite and get to bed early. Max was wriggling like Houdini extricating himself from a straight-jacket. In frustration, I barked at Max to STAND STILL! He slowed long enough to position his wrestless limbs in the appropriate places. And then he said, "Zip it, mommy!"
That command isn't in Lee's or my repertoire, so I was more than a little surprised to hear it roll so comfortably off Max's tongue. Because I wasn't sure whether he knew what it meant, I postponed our "using polite language with one's parents" conversation until I'd asked Max if he knew what "zip it" meant.
"It means to stop talking."
"Where did you learn than, Max?"
"At school."
"Whom have you heard say that at school?"
"Mrs. Foltz."
"Did Mrs. Foltz tell you to 'zip it', Max?"
"Yes."
"When did she tell you to' zip it'?"
"When I didn't take a nap."
I have plenty of sympathy for Mrs. Foltz.
On Tuesday and Thursday, Reed was in the early stages of his nap when I told Max that it was time for him to follow suit. Knowing that you can't make a child sleep any more than you can make that proverbial horse drink, I explained to Max that he could sleep or play quietly, but that in either case he was to be quiet and stay in his room until I returned. I hadn't been alone for 10 minutes when I heard bellowing coming from the direction of Max's room, followed by the screams that Reed reserves for times when he's been roused from a sound sleep. Both boys were now tired but fully awake, and one was cranky, too. Those afternoons were almost interminable.
There's been a dearth of sleep in our house recently. This evening Max resisted going to bed, protesting that he didn't want to be alone. Finally, I insisted that it was bedtime and left the room. As I started down the hall, Max called out, "Mommy, I'm sad and I need a tissue for when I'm crying!"
Do I need to explain that that doesn't bode well for the coming hours? No, I didn't think so.
That command isn't in Lee's or my repertoire, so I was more than a little surprised to hear it roll so comfortably off Max's tongue. Because I wasn't sure whether he knew what it meant, I postponed our "using polite language with one's parents" conversation until I'd asked Max if he knew what "zip it" meant.
"It means to stop talking."
"Where did you learn than, Max?"
"At school."
"Whom have you heard say that at school?"
"Mrs. Foltz."
"Did Mrs. Foltz tell you to 'zip it', Max?"
"Yes."
"When did she tell you to' zip it'?"
"When I didn't take a nap."
I have plenty of sympathy for Mrs. Foltz.
On Tuesday and Thursday, Reed was in the early stages of his nap when I told Max that it was time for him to follow suit. Knowing that you can't make a child sleep any more than you can make that proverbial horse drink, I explained to Max that he could sleep or play quietly, but that in either case he was to be quiet and stay in his room until I returned. I hadn't been alone for 10 minutes when I heard bellowing coming from the direction of Max's room, followed by the screams that Reed reserves for times when he's been roused from a sound sleep. Both boys were now tired but fully awake, and one was cranky, too. Those afternoons were almost interminable.
There's been a dearth of sleep in our house recently. This evening Max resisted going to bed, protesting that he didn't want to be alone. Finally, I insisted that it was bedtime and left the room. As I started down the hall, Max called out, "Mommy, I'm sad and I need a tissue for when I'm crying!"
Do I need to explain that that doesn't bode well for the coming hours? No, I didn't think so.
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