Jac (my sister-in-law) and I have decided to make Mondays “Nature Schoolday” for our three-year-olds. Here’s what we did this week.

All prepped for cloud watching, with a little help from The Cloud Book.

We were in luck — the weather was absolutely perfect.

Wasn’t long before we spotted a… crab.

Then it was time to draw what we saw.

We thought we could pack up and leave, but the kids were busy packing up something else…

“Some people would call him stupid, Josh.”

“That’s because they don’t know him.”

I found a $2 copy of Secrets of the Baby Whisperer for Toddlers at Evernew Bookstore (where else?) and I’m so glad I bought it! I’ve read it before, but there’s some advice in there that’s still relevant to me.

It’s only now that Layla’s personality is clear to me, and I can see she fits pretty well into the “Touchy” category:

True to her baby self, this little one is sensitive and slow to adapt to new situations. She likes the world ordered and knowable. She hates to be interrupted when engrossed. For instance, if she’s deeply involved with a toy or a puzzle and you ask her to stop, she gets upset and is likely to cry. It’s this toddler who is often labeled “shy,” rather than people assuming, “Oh, it’s her temperament.” Granted, a Touchy toddler may not do well in social gatherings, especially if she feels pushed, and she often has difficulty sharing.

Layla’s also an “Observer,” and here’s what author Tracy Hogg aka The Baby Whisperer has to say about Observers and Interactors:

In my toddler groups, some kids are what I call Observers. Often Grumpy or Touchy types, they tend to hold themselves back a bit. They let another child play with a toy before they attempt it. Or they go off in a corner, where there’s less stimulation and less interference.

Other children, usually Angel, Textbook, and Spirited types, are Interactors. They make eye contact, reach out for other children, kiss them.

I try my best to appear nonchalant if Layla’s non-responsive during social situations; she usually clams up in big groups or a class situation, unless she has a friend with her. But I am often annoyed, and I do push her, sometimes physically, e.g. steering her to the front of the class, or moving her slightly away from me and nearer to the teacher and other kids. Reading the book’s made me realise what I’m doing is completely different from acceptance.

Some Whisperer words to remember, if you have a kid like Layla:

1. Respect your child’s style and pace. If your child is reluctant to join in and wants to sit on the sidelines, let him. Don’t keep saying, “Do you want to play…”

2. Keep your discomfort to yourself; don’t make excuses for your child’s behaviour. Your child will sense your disapproval, and it will make her feel bad about herself or think that she has done something “wrong.” (To others, you can say something like, “Let him get used to you. He’ll be fine in a minute.”)

3. It might help you to reframe your child’s behaviour — he’s cautious, a trait that will serve him well in other ways. (For me, I try to think of it as Layla being more mature, perceptive, and generally adult-like.)

4. Don’t give up on socializing your child or quit a particular group because she doesn’t jump in immediately. If your child is reluctant to participate or wants to leave, simply say, “We made a promise to come here, and we have to stick with it. You can stay here with me and watch.”

5. Expect replays of social difficulties in new settings. Each new situation means going through the warm-up stage all over again.

Just a last point from me about something that worked for us in dance class yesterday. Layla loves to run, and I can see she becomes confident and uninhibited when she’s on the move. So before our class began, I went up to the more outgoing kids in class to engage them in a game of Catch (me being the scary monster), and soon Layla was running along with us and laughing, which I thought helped her shake off a bit of the initial tension and uncertainty. One of the kids — a spunky, independent little girl who apparently prefers not having her parent in the classroom — later approached Layla several times, either to play or to help her with something, so maybe the earlier run had served as an ice breaker as well.

When Martin was growing up he saw the signs WHITE ONLY everywhere in his hometown. Every time he read the words, he felt bad.

Until he remembered what his mother told him:

“You are as good as anyone.”

Martin’s Big Words, Doreen Rappaport.

Was inspired by this tribute to Dr. King.

I used to be a phone person. I could talk to anyone about anything. And I talked to everybody: girlfriends, guy pals, guys I liked but was too embarrassed to do anything about, friends of friends, relatives of friends… I’ve even talked to people who assumed I knew who they were when I really didn’t. I’ve clocked 5 hours, 6 hours, maybe more. I’ve dutifully held a phone to my ear and watched Seinfeld, Friends, and entire movies with a voice on the other line.

Alf came along when I was 21, and it was around then that I moved into my rental. Until we moved in together seven years later, we talked on the phone every day — many hours initially, and many uh… minutes in Year Seven.

And then zilch.

Now I type talk, mail and text wherever possible. I make work calls only because there’s no choice. I put my phone on Meeting mode although I’m almost never at one. My phone conversations with friends can be summed up in exactly six words: “Eh I’m here. Where are you?”

***

It’s quite possible that no-one knows the person that I am now better than my buddy Ron. We did plenty of movies and dinners before we started talking online, and it definitely took a while before we could discuss those same things offline too. We’ve used the same picture as our avatar, totally unplanned and much to each other’s dismay. (Cate Blanchett as Bob Dylan, I’m Not There.) We’ve texted each other the same thing at the same time. And yet we’ve never talked on the phone for over five minutes.

So the phone represents uncharted territory for us both, I guess. Late last year I announced over coffee that I would like us to have A Proper Phone Conversation this year, just one, just to prove we still had it in us to connect in the old way. We talked about what we might say, if we would have to plan it, what we’d do if we didn’t have any other windows to switch over to during lulls, and how weird the whole thing was.

Is it going to happen? Well, we’ll be talking about it tomorrow, over dinner with Alf.

Layla’s at the age now where she’s starting to say things that could be inappropriate for others’ ears, or even downright hurtful.

Just the other day, we saw a little person in the distance. And here’s what my little girl said:

I don’t like him, because he’s short but he’s old.

I was kinda caught by surprise, so I simply replied there was no reason for us to dislike him — he’d not done anything bad to us.

I’m sure there’s a better answer.

Last week, she also told us she didn’t like her American “church school teacher,” because her voice was funny. She even made a squealing noise to show us how funny it was. I was too amused to do much else but laugh. Thankfully she’s over it now.

Are you already teaching your kids not to judge by appearances or anything else other than character?

Sometimes I think I need a refresher course myself. And I suspect I’m not alone.

Once our term is up, we’ll move on to something else. (more…)

Finally got some zipper files for Layla’s artwork, and got her to title her pieces tonight. (She spoke, I wrote.) I’m glad I asked, because I would never have come up with something like “A Small Country For Girls” on my own. Enjoy!