Bye Bye Christmas

Another Christmas has passed. The munchkins in my household made out like bandits.

More than anything, the squeaker wanted a liopleurodon set that he had seen at Toys R Us. This is what he told anyone who asked what he wanted for Christmas. The word resulted in many furrowed brows and expressions of confusion among those who had asked, but the squeaker would follow up with an explanation when prompted (“it’s this prehistoric reptile...”). To his joy, the squeaker did indeed receive the liopleurodon set. He also got Lord of the Rings Figures (“Look, papa, it’s a nazgul!”), a large toy fishing boat (with fishermen who now frequently find themselves imperiled by the liopleurodon), and some books and movies. Between his two sets of grandparents, he got lots of additional loot, including a fossil hunting kit and outdoor gear (a compass, flashlight, canteen, and other assorted goodies).

Last year, the squeaker was excited about Christmas, but this year, he could anticipate it in a completely different way. Weeks in advance, he was gazing longingly at the sight of Christmas day on the calendar. When he went to bed on Christmas Eve, he almost looked pained by the endless waiting. He did not really get up early, though, thankfully.

The pipsqueak, of course, was completely oblivious. Santa brought him only a few things, because, as Santa certainly guessed, what the pipsqueak loved best were the boxes that the gifts came in. He says “box” with delight, in fact. But he got excited on Christmas morning, too, because the squeaker’s excitement was contagious.

Though I find all the holiday decorations and music a little dreary after the big day has passed, I don’t really mind that it is over, the way that some people do. I find the weeks leading up to Christmas very stressful, though I am not sure why. There is an intensity to everything that I find rather unpleasant, sort of a feeling of expectation in the air. After a while, it makes me feel very edgy, which seems like just the wrong reaction for the time of year, when Christmas spirit is all over the radio and the decorated stores and homes. So I am glad when the holiday passes, and normal routines take over again. Plus, I am excited that the days are now growing longer, a little bit at a time.

Squeaker Worries

My husband talked with the squeaker’s preschool teacher for a while yesterday evening. He had called about an administrative question about tuition, but she brought up a concern she has about the squeaker, and they discussed it for some time.

It seems that he is way behind the other kids in his motor skills, both fine and gross. He is pretty much the only kid in the class who can’t write his name without using an entire sheet of paper (though I can’t help but to point out that he has a LONG name, unlike classmates Sara and Will and Owen).

We have long known that the squeaker is not very coordinated. He trips over his own feet. He runs into walls. He can’t button buttons or zip zippers. He usually has a bruise in the middle of his forehead from some...incident.

But I still feel anxious about hearing it described as a “delay.” His teacher hasn’t tested him (what would be the point to subjecting a 4-year old to all kinds of tests?), but she has been teaching preschool for almost 30 years, so she has observed many, many children in her years of teaching. She alluded to the possibility (probability?) that he won’t be ready for kindergarten in the fall, but if we delay him a year, he’ll be 19 years old when he graduates from high school. I think that would be a major problem for a child who is likely to be ahead of his peers cognitively and verbally.

In fact, his verbal and cognitive skills make the motor delay dilemma even stickier. His teacher described him as “exceptional” and “gifted” – cognitively. She said that in all her years of teaching, she has never seen a child with a vocabulary like his. She noted his imagination, and his surprising capacity to listen quietly to long, complex stories, and to tell stories of his own. But she also said he cannot sit still, and that he is all over the place at school.

In recent months, I’ve been feeling increasingly anxious about his motor skills. I’ve wondered if school might end up offering him nothing but frustration and discouragement, because he cannot adhere to the rigid structure and expectations. I don’t think it would take much for him to feel that he is simply not able to meet the expectations, and then why would he bother trying? What will happen to his enthusiasm, creativity, imagination, and intellectual curiosity in an environment where he feels he simply cannot succeed?

In some ways, I think he is a perfect candidate for home schooling. But while I really like the idea of home schooling in some ways, I have concerns that it allows a child to bypass functioning in the “real world.” I’m afraid that home schooling creates an expectation that the world should cater to one’s own needs and preferences, and it eliminates the circumstances through which kids learn how to cope with real world situations that they will certainly encounter as adults. Home schooling seems like too much of a safe cocoon, and I think there is tremendous value to letting your kid leave your side so that he can learn to function in challenging environments on his own.

However, I will need to balance the value of independent functioning with the possible toll of public school expectations that could undermine the squeaker’s particular strengths and talents, leaving him discouraged and unhappy.

Woof woof

Yesterday, the squeaker wanted salmon and green beans for dinner.

Since the pipsqueak doesn't really eat salmon, I said to him, "And how about a hot dog for you?"

And he replied, "Woof woof!"

Yikes. We are almost communicating, but not quite!