Oliver had his first nightmare last night. He woke up screaming after watching "The Iron Giant" for the 4th time. He explained that in his sleep a white robot came and chased a boy. The robot stuck it's tongue out yelling "blawl blawl blawl!" and scaring the boy.
"Would you like to sleep in our bed?"
"Yes..."
Cut to a pregnant woman stuck between a snoring husband and a toddler with 5 trucks and a monkey in his hands.
"I want to watch a show Mama."
"No, that's what got you in trouble in the first place. We are sleeping now. Go to sleep."
"I want to go to the doctor." (for some reason Oliver loves going to the doctor)
"Not now Oliver. Maybe soon."
Wednesday, August 24, 2011
Sunday, July 31, 2011
I'm too big.
This morning, Oliver excitedly reported to us that there was a Buzz Lightyear toy stuck in the muck outside, behind a bush. It was the same Buzz he'd thrown in there months before, when the bush was overgrown and trying to take over the backyard. Now that our gardeners had trimmed it, he could see Buzz again, and we needed to mount a recon mission. Now. Always a dad who encourages serving your own needs, I took my coffee outside.
Buzz was about five feet in. Oliver would have to step through dirt, over plants, and brush away some branches to get to him. Nothing he couldn't do. There was also a small soccer ball, a matchbox car, a whiffle ball, and a white truck in the bush. Wonder how those got there. I pointed them all out to Oliver, and showed him a path he could take to get them. I pulled the soccer ball out, as it was in arm's reach. Then I stepped back and nodded, "You'll have to go in and get Buzz, because I'm too big." It was true. I would have had to put my coffee down and crawl a few feet over plants and dirt wet with dew. "No papa," he retorted, "I'm too big."
The "I'm too big" defense has become a common strategy lately. We'll be sitting on the sofa and Oli will want to read a book. "Alright, go get it," I'll say. "No papa - you get it. I'm too big." We'll be in the bathtub before bed and I'll tell him it's almost time to brush his teeth, but he can't because he's too big. We like to encourage his bigness, as every parent does - it's a nice motivator to get him to do something you want him to do. It's useful for transitions - big boy bed, big boy using the potty - and it's funny how he's co-opting it as an excuse for not having to do something.
At my urging, Oli ventured a few steps into the wilderness, holding my hand for balance. He got a poke from a low branch and stepped back out. He wasn't hurt, but he walked up the steps of our deck to oversee his mission from afar. I encouraged him to come back down, told him I'd help hold the branches back. He stood there for a moment, before literally gasping and shouting, "Oh my goodness, papa!" No, he had not just seen an awesome airplane in the sky or been surprised by two squirrels chasing each other up and down a tree. His "Oh my goodness" came out of disbelief that I could still be talking and not getting Buzz, already. It was more convincing than "I'm too big."
Laughing in spite of myself, I struck a compromise, "Maybe there's a tool in the shed we can use." Of course! The shed would have the solution to our problem. We love the shed. The lawnmower's in there. Tools too. A couple baseball bats. Lots of paint cans. Organized boxes. It speaks to our male minds. We set up beach chairs in there so that we can socialize. We ate lunch in there together a few times.
Oliver suggested we use the lawnmower. I thought that maybe the rake would work better. He agreed, impressed with the rake's "hooks" on its end. He started hauling it outside, then insisted that I also carry and end of it. There's the teamwork! We're coming for you, Buzz!
I thought we were going to reach the rake into the bush and drag Buzz out, in the same fashion we use a broom to retrieve cars from under a sofa, but the hooks on the rake must have reminded Oli of cranes. Either that or he wanted to recreate the climax of Toy Story 3, when the claw rescues Buzz and friends from sure peril. He carried it up the steps and had me help him drop the end with the hooks over the railing. We hooked Buzz's foot and slowly pulled the rake back up. Oli reached through the slats and pulled Buzz to freedom!
We'd done it. Not the way I'd thought it would happen, but Buzz got some long-awaited play time. And my coffee was still warm.
Buzz was about five feet in. Oliver would have to step through dirt, over plants, and brush away some branches to get to him. Nothing he couldn't do. There was also a small soccer ball, a matchbox car, a whiffle ball, and a white truck in the bush. Wonder how those got there. I pointed them all out to Oliver, and showed him a path he could take to get them. I pulled the soccer ball out, as it was in arm's reach. Then I stepped back and nodded, "You'll have to go in and get Buzz, because I'm too big." It was true. I would have had to put my coffee down and crawl a few feet over plants and dirt wet with dew. "No papa," he retorted, "I'm too big."
The "I'm too big" defense has become a common strategy lately. We'll be sitting on the sofa and Oli will want to read a book. "Alright, go get it," I'll say. "No papa - you get it. I'm too big." We'll be in the bathtub before bed and I'll tell him it's almost time to brush his teeth, but he can't because he's too big. We like to encourage his bigness, as every parent does - it's a nice motivator to get him to do something you want him to do. It's useful for transitions - big boy bed, big boy using the potty - and it's funny how he's co-opting it as an excuse for not having to do something.
At my urging, Oli ventured a few steps into the wilderness, holding my hand for balance. He got a poke from a low branch and stepped back out. He wasn't hurt, but he walked up the steps of our deck to oversee his mission from afar. I encouraged him to come back down, told him I'd help hold the branches back. He stood there for a moment, before literally gasping and shouting, "Oh my goodness, papa!" No, he had not just seen an awesome airplane in the sky or been surprised by two squirrels chasing each other up and down a tree. His "Oh my goodness" came out of disbelief that I could still be talking and not getting Buzz, already. It was more convincing than "I'm too big."
Laughing in spite of myself, I struck a compromise, "Maybe there's a tool in the shed we can use." Of course! The shed would have the solution to our problem. We love the shed. The lawnmower's in there. Tools too. A couple baseball bats. Lots of paint cans. Organized boxes. It speaks to our male minds. We set up beach chairs in there so that we can socialize. We ate lunch in there together a few times.
Oliver suggested we use the lawnmower. I thought that maybe the rake would work better. He agreed, impressed with the rake's "hooks" on its end. He started hauling it outside, then insisted that I also carry and end of it. There's the teamwork! We're coming for you, Buzz!
I thought we were going to reach the rake into the bush and drag Buzz out, in the same fashion we use a broom to retrieve cars from under a sofa, but the hooks on the rake must have reminded Oli of cranes. Either that or he wanted to recreate the climax of Toy Story 3, when the claw rescues Buzz and friends from sure peril. He carried it up the steps and had me help him drop the end with the hooks over the railing. We hooked Buzz's foot and slowly pulled the rake back up. Oli reached through the slats and pulled Buzz to freedom!
We'd done it. Not the way I'd thought it would happen, but Buzz got some long-awaited play time. And my coffee was still warm.
Friday, June 24, 2011
Oliver's Noteables
1. Able to count at a glance. Can look at a set of cars and say "that's three cars" without counting individually.
2. Good at sharing. Able to find something to offer a friend if a conflict arises over the toy he is holding. Doesn't yank toys from others.
3. Has been able to do a somersault for about 6 months.
4. Able to ride a tricycle.
5. Creates little scenarios in his play. The bulldozer pulls up the train track and has to fix it, or the crane has to help the train who fell off the track.
6. Can build letters by putting cars together to make shapes. So a line of cars with one horizontal on top and bottom is a capital I.
7. Most common phrases, "Follow me please," "I need a snack", "I want to watch a show", "Relax guys" (said to Matthew and I when we are talking calmly, as a way to tell us to stop talking and focus on him).
8. Fully potty trained and able to tell us when he needs to go. Wears diaper at nap and bedtime.
9. Still takes a blissful 2-3 hour nap in the afternoon, which is the joy of my weekend. Sleeps through the night, but is starting to play a bit in his room rather than going directly to sleep when put down.
2. Good at sharing. Able to find something to offer a friend if a conflict arises over the toy he is holding. Doesn't yank toys from others.
3. Has been able to do a somersault for about 6 months.
4. Able to ride a tricycle.
5. Creates little scenarios in his play. The bulldozer pulls up the train track and has to fix it, or the crane has to help the train who fell off the track.
6. Can build letters by putting cars together to make shapes. So a line of cars with one horizontal on top and bottom is a capital I.
7. Most common phrases, "Follow me please," "I need a snack", "I want to watch a show", "Relax guys" (said to Matthew and I when we are talking calmly, as a way to tell us to stop talking and focus on him).
8. Fully potty trained and able to tell us when he needs to go. Wears diaper at nap and bedtime.
9. Still takes a blissful 2-3 hour nap in the afternoon, which is the joy of my weekend. Sleeps through the night, but is starting to play a bit in his room rather than going directly to sleep when put down.
Sunday, June 12, 2011
Oliver shares his favorite things
At Oliver's school, Bing, they did a project where each child could bring in 5 favorite things to share with the class, all of which fit into a brown box. Matthew and I met at the school to watch Oli's presentation. He shared Nana, a book we made him, his PJs, a family photo, and a car from "Cars". It was wonderful for me to see him understand the privilege of being able to be in front of the class, and to be proud to share his things. 
Tuesday, May 31, 2011
Making Time for Uninterrupted Play
Each week, I write a few paragraphs for the newsletter at my school. I wrote this one a few weeks back about trying to make time to spend time with Oliver - after reading it, a number of parents told me they were going to try it out with their children...
"Making Time for Uninterrupted Play"
Since I have a long commute, I feel the obligatory guilt about not spending enough time with my son, Oliver. As a way of bargaining, I’ve been trying to spend as much time with him each day as I spend in the car, which is approximately 2 hours. As a working parent, it’s a challenge for me to spend 2 quality hours with him without being distracted (especially now that baseball season is in high gear). It’s so easy, once he’s hit an independent playing streak, to quietly sneak off to my computer to check box scores, respond to an email I’ve been putting off for too long, or clean the dishes in the sink. Throw in the fact that I have to shower in the morning and am beat at the end of a workday, and it’s a real challenge. So the weekends are my real opportunity to connect with him.
Many people asked me how my weekend was last week, and for some reason, it’s caused me to reflect more often than I normally do. This past weekend, during the times we hadn’t made any plans, I decided to let Oliver lead our play. Often, I take the initiative, because I want him to have a diverse play experience, and I feel like I can provide that for him. But there’s something about how much a child is invested in an activity when it’s their idea, and not yours. At Parker we often talk about self-directed activities and teacher-directed activities. Without exception, children have a harder time fully participating when the activity has been the brainchild of another person.
Oliver’s reached the point developmentally where he’s able to engage in fantasy play, and not look at the world in a completely literal sense (for example, when I’d ask him, “Oliver, are you hungry?” he’d respond, “No, I’m Oli”). And so this weekend I made a vow to let his world of fantasy come out and to not become distracted when I was playing with him. I let him direct our activities, and I loyally followed, with no plans or map to guide us. He’s been into dragons lately, and so we hid from them together under the table. “Look, a dragon!” he’d say, and we’d run into the other room, find the dragon, and run back to our hiding place. The play developed when our cat, Franco, sauntered by and Oliver stated, “There’s the dragon!” The poor cat wasn’t prepared for us bold adventurers involving him in our script, but played along, albeit lazily. Later, the dragon became a box of cereal, and Oliver vanquished of him by insisting that he had to eat a bowl of Cheerios.
What I found was that once I allowed myself to become immersed in his world and his play, it was incredibly rich, wholly rewarding, and it brought our relationship to a new level. The time didn't drag by, and I didn't feel the need to augment the play in the slightest. I simply asked questions that I thought might help him create more of the script and show him I was invested in his imagination - but only peppered them in here and there. I didn't grill him with, "Where's the dragon? What color is he? Can you say the /f/ sound in fire-breathing? Let's count the talons!"
The “dragon” script has created a new dialogue between us, and provides good memories and humor when we need it. I encourage all of you to take the bold step of not having any plans with your child, ignoring the computer and your daily tasks, and letting them lead you in a couple hours of uninterrupted play. It’s worth it.
- Matt
"Making Time for Uninterrupted Play"
Since I have a long commute, I feel the obligatory guilt about not spending enough time with my son, Oliver. As a way of bargaining, I’ve been trying to spend as much time with him each day as I spend in the car, which is approximately 2 hours. As a working parent, it’s a challenge for me to spend 2 quality hours with him without being distracted (especially now that baseball season is in high gear). It’s so easy, once he’s hit an independent playing streak, to quietly sneak off to my computer to check box scores, respond to an email I’ve been putting off for too long, or clean the dishes in the sink. Throw in the fact that I have to shower in the morning and am beat at the end of a workday, and it’s a real challenge. So the weekends are my real opportunity to connect with him.
Many people asked me how my weekend was last week, and for some reason, it’s caused me to reflect more often than I normally do. This past weekend, during the times we hadn’t made any plans, I decided to let Oliver lead our play. Often, I take the initiative, because I want him to have a diverse play experience, and I feel like I can provide that for him. But there’s something about how much a child is invested in an activity when it’s their idea, and not yours. At Parker we often talk about self-directed activities and teacher-directed activities. Without exception, children have a harder time fully participating when the activity has been the brainchild of another person.
Oliver’s reached the point developmentally where he’s able to engage in fantasy play, and not look at the world in a completely literal sense (for example, when I’d ask him, “Oliver, are you hungry?” he’d respond, “No, I’m Oli”). And so this weekend I made a vow to let his world of fantasy come out and to not become distracted when I was playing with him. I let him direct our activities, and I loyally followed, with no plans or map to guide us. He’s been into dragons lately, and so we hid from them together under the table. “Look, a dragon!” he’d say, and we’d run into the other room, find the dragon, and run back to our hiding place. The play developed when our cat, Franco, sauntered by and Oliver stated, “There’s the dragon!” The poor cat wasn’t prepared for us bold adventurers involving him in our script, but played along, albeit lazily. Later, the dragon became a box of cereal, and Oliver vanquished of him by insisting that he had to eat a bowl of Cheerios.
What I found was that once I allowed myself to become immersed in his world and his play, it was incredibly rich, wholly rewarding, and it brought our relationship to a new level. The time didn't drag by, and I didn't feel the need to augment the play in the slightest. I simply asked questions that I thought might help him create more of the script and show him I was invested in his imagination - but only peppered them in here and there. I didn't grill him with, "Where's the dragon? What color is he? Can you say the /f/ sound in fire-breathing? Let's count the talons!"
The “dragon” script has created a new dialogue between us, and provides good memories and humor when we need it. I encourage all of you to take the bold step of not having any plans with your child, ignoring the computer and your daily tasks, and letting them lead you in a couple hours of uninterrupted play. It’s worth it.
- Matt
Monday, April 18, 2011
Progress
After my post on Friday, I took the time to write a book called "I Can Share" for Oliver. I use the term "book" loosely, as this is about ten sentences of content and some sketches that look like they were drawn by a serial killer. The whole thing uses 5 staples, 5 pieces of paper, and a black marker and takes about 15 minutes.
The story outlines a scenario where a boy yanks a red truck from a girl and yells "mine!". Then the auther explains that this is not okay. The girl cries so the boy can tell that he's upset the girl. Next time the boy asks, "Can I see that next?" and the girl eventually hands over the toy. The boys is now doing sharing. We walk through 2 more examples of the "Can I see that next?" scenario resulting in successful sharing and the book ends.
We then did some practicing around the house finding things that we could take turns using. At first it didn't work and we heard "Mine!" a bunch. But we did get some success eventually. Oliver read the book about 12 times over the weekend. He always loves the home made books.
We read the book in the car on the way to a play date and he proactively said the "Can I try that next" several times during the ride there. The play date went off well, and it was great for me to see that Oliver really does want to understand.
The story outlines a scenario where a boy yanks a red truck from a girl and yells "mine!". Then the auther explains that this is not okay. The girl cries so the boy can tell that he's upset the girl. Next time the boy asks, "Can I see that next?" and the girl eventually hands over the toy. The boys is now doing sharing. We walk through 2 more examples of the "Can I see that next?" scenario resulting in successful sharing and the book ends.
We then did some practicing around the house finding things that we could take turns using. At first it didn't work and we heard "Mine!" a bunch. But we did get some success eventually. Oliver read the book about 12 times over the weekend. He always loves the home made books.
We read the book in the car on the way to a play date and he proactively said the "Can I try that next" several times during the ride there. The play date went off well, and it was great for me to see that Oliver really does want to understand.
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