Childhood memories. More difficult then remembered.
It’s a natural instinct to want your children to enjoy the activities you did as a kid right? Sure some people take it too far and force the pursuit of their lost dreams upon their offspring. Not so cool, our failures are ours, leave them alone or correct them. That being said; I see no problem in pushing our children toward goals & activities we remember being good or hold dear. As a rational adult, if you think it’s a good idea it must be.
Some things that I remember being easy as a child are in fact more difficult for an adult to master or accomplish, I suppose we could attribute it to failing mental plasticity, or the tendency of adult paradigms to complicate things. It begs the question though : how can encasing someone in carbonite be so difficult? Sure, Jabba had a giant room full of equipment and a cavernous chamber but we had a huge sandbox and plenty of H2O.
I spent hours and days perfecting this art as a child, it’s a fairly simple process: Make a sand and water slushie – dribble it all over any Star Wars figure (no need to limit it to Solo) resulting in a mummified – in fact: carbonized in sand, carbonite figure.
The problem is that achieving the perfect consistency IS HARD, you need it to be thick to completely encase the figure while remain thin enough to adhere tenaciously to the contours. I spent a few hours teaching my son this last weekend and getting that perfect viscosity of muck proved more difficult then I imagined. I finally got a very good system engineered involving a small funnel, of course water, sand and some sticks to help push the slurry through the spout.
Needless to say, my son loved it, we had a morning of fun in the sun, there were a few lessons learned about states of matter along the way. Did I over complicate the process? Quite possibly. I did however learn a thing or two about patience and diligence from a toddler.
Children’s milestones pass with the swiftness of a massive pile up at the Daytona 500, usually without the smell of fuel and the fire.
With each hurdle comes feelings of pride and sense of accomplishment along with a little sadness, these small humans grow up too fast. Sleeping arrangements definitely fall victim to these emotions: when its time for change, questions arise; The crib is a spot to chill, a place to sleep, a zone of comfort, a cage to keep them confined and a safe haven to keep them out of shitstorms all in one. So when should the small human be given a bed?
Our son has a very basic crib, we opted for this as my mother said when I was a child I had chewed through one of the lead paint covered 1970′s wooden bars on mine. So we figured, even though lead painted childrens furniture is next to impossible to source these days, we’d keep it simple and instead of getting a fancy convertible sleigh crib just do it up with the simplest Ikea one.
This also gives me the opportunity to purchase a race care bed which will be pure joy for me to buy and awesomeness for My son to sleep in. I always wished I had one of these during my childhood, which tells you something about the neglect and impoverished state I was growing up in
So, back to the question at hand: I may be excited to buy the race car bed and the boy will surely love it, but when is it really time to make the transition? This decision has to be governed by what is best for him, not when I feel the need to purchase the awesome race car bed. So: Should it be decided based on age? When we feel he will sleep through the night without escaping, or wrecking his room, or coming into our room, kicking me out of bed to be with mommy?
I know one thing for sure. We need the race car before he climbs out and over, falls down and busts his face.
There are many ways to score points with the wife; snickering while she struggles to hopelessly reason with your two-year old son is not one of them.
The mind of a two-year old cares not that mommy is exhausted and wants to get the kitchen cleaned up and go to bed, never mind that its past his bedtime and his powers of reasoning have waxed beyond their gruesomely weak normal range. As I watched the scene below unfold I laugh:
Mother is trying to load the dishwasher, baby boy is engrossed with the 2 levels of racks he’s sliding in and out, on wheels nonetheless! Then he spots the cheese grater, being unsure of its purpose, he pulls it out and exclaims “what’s dis?”
Mommy is trying to be nice but is rapidly losing it and grabs it to put it back, I snicker and explain “that’s for cutting cheese to put on pizza” now the boy decides he should crawl under the open door, proclaim he is pooping, then freak out because he doesn’t want the dishwasher door to be closed.
Really all mundane moments in day-to-day life, but I find this power struggle HILARIOUS: so I laugh. Wife is not appreciative to say the least.
So really the advice here would be: don’t laugh, help clean up. I find this impossible and continue to laugh.
There’s a little known game my wife is fond of called “the keeping game”
Basically you grab ahold of someone and hug them tight, when they want to stop hugging… you refuse. There are many incarnations of this game such as sitting on, lying on, and holding on. I myself am not a fan. I love getting and giving hugs, but on my own terms. A too long hug becomes a torture chamber of sweatiness.
This game is the BEST to play with children! They too have the urge to get away, I think it must be an inborn reflexive behaviour similar to fight or flight & moro reflex. The difference is in the size, these lil’ns can’t get away! they have a 90% mass defecit.
Bottom line is; kids love hugs, kisses and tickles and we their parents love to give them these things. So keep on keepin ‘em!