Thursday, May 19, 2005
"After"
When I pick Max up from school, he is always disappointed to see me. Usually, he juts out his lower lip and moans, "I want Babee to pick me up." But if he is particularly tired, he may burst into tears, or refuse to get in my car, or crumple onto the floorboard with his face buried in his hands. Because I pick Max up in a carpool line, where a teacher helps Max into his carseat, someone from the school is always there to witness his reluctance to join me in the car. If I were only slightly more paranoid, I'd be concerned about what the teachers imagine I do to him after we leave the schoolgrounds.
Of the parenting transitions we've encountered, one that I hadn't anticipated, and that the parenting books I've read fail to mention, occured sometime during Max's fourth year. Where once Max would happily accompany me on the errands or chores or entertainment of my choosing, now he wants to create his own itinerary, with me acting primarily as chauffeur or chaperone. I suppose one of the reasons Max may prefer to see Babee in the carpool line is that after school Max usually gets to pick their destination: the dinosaur museum or the zoo or the park or even just to Babee's house--anywhere but home, where Max feels shackled by my insistence that he remain quiet while Boo naps. So I've been trying lately to take Max on a short excursion after school before he is greeted by the boredom of home.
Last Friday, we grabbed a picnic lunch and headed for the zoo. I told Max that our visit would be brief, so he needed to choose the three animals that were most important to him and we'd make sure we saw them before we left. I didn't ask this because I actually needed the information; I asked so that Max understood the limits of our visit. I already knew that Max wanted to see the giraffes, the elephants and the zebras. I don't know why he is so partial to these three--is it just a coincidence that their pictures hung above his crib when he was a baby?
As luck would have it, the giraffes and elephants reside in close proximity to one another, but the hooved animals are on the opposite side of the zoo. En route to the zebras, we passed the camels and the antelopes. And then we paid a visit to the zebras. But Max was not prepared to leave.
"I want to see the camels," he implored.
"Max, we've already seen the camels. We saw them on the way to the zebras."
"But I want to see the camels after the zebras."
"I'm sorry, Max. We've seen the giraffes and the elephants and the zebras and the camels, and it's time to go home."
"But I want to see the camels after the zebras."
"Max, we're leaving now."
"I DON'T WANT TO GO HOME!"
Max began to wail, but I was unmoved. I picked him up and headed for the car. Mind you, we were not close to the parking lot, but Max wasn't going anywhere under his own power. My only consolation was the sympathetic looks I received from the strangers in our path. I know what they were thinking, because I've thought it a hundred times myself: "Thank God it's her, not me." After a few minutes, I shifted Max from my left hip to my back, and he wrapped his arms tightly around my neck. The longer I walked, the more his grip loosened, his weight pulling both of us backwards as he began to nod off. When we reached the car, I managed to hoist Max into his seat without cooperation.
But he had one last protest in him. As we turned for home, Max mumbled, "Mommy, do you know what 'after' means? I want to see the camels after the zebras." And then he slept.
Of the parenting transitions we've encountered, one that I hadn't anticipated, and that the parenting books I've read fail to mention, occured sometime during Max's fourth year. Where once Max would happily accompany me on the errands or chores or entertainment of my choosing, now he wants to create his own itinerary, with me acting primarily as chauffeur or chaperone. I suppose one of the reasons Max may prefer to see Babee in the carpool line is that after school Max usually gets to pick their destination: the dinosaur museum or the zoo or the park or even just to Babee's house--anywhere but home, where Max feels shackled by my insistence that he remain quiet while Boo naps. So I've been trying lately to take Max on a short excursion after school before he is greeted by the boredom of home.
Last Friday, we grabbed a picnic lunch and headed for the zoo. I told Max that our visit would be brief, so he needed to choose the three animals that were most important to him and we'd make sure we saw them before we left. I didn't ask this because I actually needed the information; I asked so that Max understood the limits of our visit. I already knew that Max wanted to see the giraffes, the elephants and the zebras. I don't know why he is so partial to these three--is it just a coincidence that their pictures hung above his crib when he was a baby?
As luck would have it, the giraffes and elephants reside in close proximity to one another, but the hooved animals are on the opposite side of the zoo. En route to the zebras, we passed the camels and the antelopes. And then we paid a visit to the zebras. But Max was not prepared to leave.
"I want to see the camels," he implored.
"Max, we've already seen the camels. We saw them on the way to the zebras."
"But I want to see the camels after the zebras."
"I'm sorry, Max. We've seen the giraffes and the elephants and the zebras and the camels, and it's time to go home."
"But I want to see the camels after the zebras."
"Max, we're leaving now."
"I DON'T WANT TO GO HOME!"
Max began to wail, but I was unmoved. I picked him up and headed for the car. Mind you, we were not close to the parking lot, but Max wasn't going anywhere under his own power. My only consolation was the sympathetic looks I received from the strangers in our path. I know what they were thinking, because I've thought it a hundred times myself: "Thank God it's her, not me." After a few minutes, I shifted Max from my left hip to my back, and he wrapped his arms tightly around my neck. The longer I walked, the more his grip loosened, his weight pulling both of us backwards as he began to nod off. When we reached the car, I managed to hoist Max into his seat without cooperation.
But he had one last protest in him. As we turned for home, Max mumbled, "Mommy, do you know what 'after' means? I want to see the camels after the zebras." And then he slept.
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