Sunday, April 11, 2010

When you teach a little one something new . . . .

My mother's 110th birthday is today. One year, on her birthday, Jordan and I decided to visit her grave, but Jordan had to stop at 7-11 first. I asked why, and she said, "I want to take her some blow-pops. I always used to take them to her, and she loved them." Maybe, or maybe she just loved Jordan. Today in church we sang "In the Garden." Mom always used to cry when she heard that hymn, because it had been played at the funeral of her brother who died in his early twenties, long before I would have known him. So I found myself singing, "For he walks with me and he talks with me, and he tells me I am his own," with tears in my eyes. Mom was a great lady, and I owe much of the good in me today to her (including the cooking).
Today was mostly a Jacob day after church, and it was one of sunny disposition punctuated by storms of tears. He cried bitterly when his mom left, got over it, ate a pbj sandwich, and then wanted me to wash the sticky off him. However, he went into another hissy fit because he thought I was going to wash off his nail polish (no comments here please about boys and nail polish--it will not warp him in future life). He was so hysterical that I tried loving, ignoring--nothing worked, so I asked what he wanted. Time out? TV in his bed? In his bed without TV? Each elicited a screaming denial, but then through sobs he said he wanted time out. So hand in hand we walked to the time-out chair in my bedroom. I kissed him and said I hoped he felt better soon. Within 10 minutes at the most, he was in my office, wanting to sit in my lap and watch doggie videos on YouTube. He had collected himself, which I find pretty remarkable for a three-year-old.
But the accomplishment of the day: we have a hand-me-down tricycle that must be seventy years old. Along the way, someone did a medium job of painting it red, and there is a huge hole in the front tire (which is probably irreplaceable). But the grandchildren ride it around the house in circles, becoming a hazard to adults. Jacob has never paid it much attention, even though Ford, his cousin six months younger, is already riding a two-wheeler with training wheels. I didn't worry--Jacob is a bright boy--but it puzzled me. Tonight he got it out, and we worked together to figure out the moves--at first he went backward as often as forward, but we worked on it, and by the time Mommy and Daddy came, he proudly rode the trike the length of my kitchen, Great cheers ensued. When he was very little, I taught him (through repeated efforts) to wave bye-bye, so now I feel I've contributed two things to his education.
Did I get any work done today? Ah, no, but that's okay It was a neat day.

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