Monday, August 20, 2007
Tough Guy
Maybe they've come down with a mild case of back-to-school anxiety, but by breakfast time this morning, the boys were at each other's throats. As the final straw, Max destroyed the African savannah that Boo had painstakingly created in their room. Boo stormed into the kitchen and began to disintegrate.
"Hey, Boo, what do you think you might do about this?"
"I. Don't. Know!"
"Could you use your words and tell Max that you didn't like what he did?"
"I did that already."
Hmmmmm. Maybe this wasn't really my problem to solve.
"Well, how else might you handle it?"
Tears banished, Boo perked up.
"I could do like you told me to when we were playing with our new friends at the school."
Oh, really?
Boo shrugged.
"Yeah. I just could toughen up."
And he trotted back towards the bedroom.
Last week, I had arranged an afternoon playdate with a mom and twins who are new to the school. We wound up in the well-airconditioned lunch room, letting our four boys chase two stray beach balls. Max was being particularly feisty with Boo, wresting one ball from his arms even when the other was within easy reach. In response, Boo was flailing about as if someone had just pulverized his last toy. Perhaps because my new mom buddy (who happens to be a preschool teacher) was a witness, I resisted the urge to dangle Max from the ceiling by his shoe laces. I put my arms around Boo and heard a calm whisper I barely recognized.
"Boo, if you're going to get this upset every time Max takes something away from you, you're going to have a long and difficult life. Maybe what you need to do is just to try to toughen up a little. Okay, buddy?"
I paused. Waiting. For screams of protest from Boo.
Instead, his mood brightened.
"I think I can do that, mommy!"
And he trotted off in search of the other ball.
It was a brief exchange. A few seconds, maybe. I didn't give it another thought.
But Boo did.
"Hey, Boo, what do you think you might do about this?"
"I. Don't. Know!"
"Could you use your words and tell Max that you didn't like what he did?"
"I did that already."
Hmmmmm. Maybe this wasn't really my problem to solve.
"Well, how else might you handle it?"
Tears banished, Boo perked up.
"I could do like you told me to when we were playing with our new friends at the school."
Oh, really?
Boo shrugged.
"Yeah. I just could toughen up."
And he trotted back towards the bedroom.
Last week, I had arranged an afternoon playdate with a mom and twins who are new to the school. We wound up in the well-airconditioned lunch room, letting our four boys chase two stray beach balls. Max was being particularly feisty with Boo, wresting one ball from his arms even when the other was within easy reach. In response, Boo was flailing about as if someone had just pulverized his last toy. Perhaps because my new mom buddy (who happens to be a preschool teacher) was a witness, I resisted the urge to dangle Max from the ceiling by his shoe laces. I put my arms around Boo and heard a calm whisper I barely recognized.
"Boo, if you're going to get this upset every time Max takes something away from you, you're going to have a long and difficult life. Maybe what you need to do is just to try to toughen up a little. Okay, buddy?"
I paused. Waiting. For screams of protest from Boo.
Instead, his mood brightened.
"I think I can do that, mommy!"
And he trotted off in search of the other ball.
It was a brief exchange. A few seconds, maybe. I didn't give it another thought.
But Boo did.
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