“Stories are light. Light is precious in a world so dark. Begin at the beginning. Tell Gregory a story. Make some light.” – K. DiCamillo, The Tale of Desperaux
Seven is an odd age. Having graduated from a time of kinetic energy focused on the growing of limbs, shedding of baby fat and acquisition of balance, seven is a time for the emotions to take center stage. Most unfortunately, the headliners are most often Anger, Discontent and Sorrow, who have been appearing in standing room only preformances of ”Whining”, “Crying” and the always popular “Sarcasm”.
I had everything figured out last year and then once again, I am reminded that parenting is a learning process…one which never ceases in giving you opportunities to grow.
It was a full and tiring three day holiday weekend. We have had a lot of fun and very little downtime between community festivals, gatherings and a trip to an out of town museum. Therefore it should’ve been no surprise when on Monday during a potluck, J totally lost it. He and an old friend were getting on famously. They ran in circles and climbed on things, making loud proclamations. Then out came the lightsabers for some good ol’ fashioned swashbuckling….which (as these things often do) ended in a hit to the eye.
J shouted, “Ouch!” dropped his saber and emitted a long howl of rage. He ran to me and began accusing his friend of foul play in a fussy voice, “He hit me. He is mean, I am never playing with him again!” All while wailing, loudly.
After examining the injured eye (nothing more than a small pink spot) I advised they play something else….and after about 15 minutes of calming down, they did go off to have a wonderful time again.
This type of overreaction has been happening alot lately. Thus far it has just left me bewildered and exhausted, having no idea what to do about it. The husband and I have just been muddling through hoping for the best.
Today, I had to break a rule. Since the beginning of the year, we have picked up the Bear via the car line. On the first day, he looked up at DP and said, “Daddy, when you park and come and get me it makes me feel like I’m in kindergarten.” So we were happy to help him in his new more independent role. However, today the baby just was not having it. In agony from a new tooth all the little guy wanted was to be held. He had cried for the last five minutes of the ride. I knew it could be turned around by some snuggles and a little walking around so I did the unthinkable: I parked.
J was released. He stood at the playground entrance with a look of utter treason on his face. “How dare you.” his knitted brow accused me. Sweat was dripping down his forehead from running, the lunch box clutched loosely at his side. He began yelling as soon as I crossed the lot. “Why did you park?!” And when I explained myself, he huffed, “You said you wouldn’t.”
I found myself ready to snap back, but instead I sang The Wheels on the Bus to the babe as I buckled him in. Instead of my usual “What did you do today” routine, I began a story. When J was little, he had a hard time with transitions so I used to tell stories about what was going to happen to ease that transition- which worked to great success.
“Once upon a time, there was a little giraffe who was kind and brave. This little giraffe loved to be outside and he loved to play with his friend Hippo. One day the two decided that they should have a sword fight…” In this way, I retold the tale of Monday’s potluck. This time, the little giraffe’s sword was broken instead of him getting hurt but all the rest was pretty much a play by play.
In the end, we had a good discussion on how to handle anger and accidents and forgiveness. When I had satisfied his questions and he mine, we rode in silence for a moment before,
“Could you tell me another story, Mama?”
I then regaled him with the tale of a little squirrel who was very disappointed.
When we arrived home I felt that I had taught that little boy more in one car trip with two stories, than in weeks of nagging or telling him to “walk it off”. I felt good. When he asked me about the little squirrel before bedtime, so we could discuss it again…I felt fabulous.
I will pull Storytelling out of my parenting toolbox again, I am sure.
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