This afternoon I stood astounded by how much my eleven-year-old had done in just half a day. As well as catching up on dishes left unwashed for too long, he packed for a weekend at a Quaker conference center, made significant progress organizing his new desk, made breakfast and lunch for himself and his little brother, came up with a new game idea, and created a controller as well as a new game for that controller using pre-fab parts called a MakeyMakey and the programming system Scratch.
He did this all before noon, all while being interrupted frequently to help me do things I can't do with a wrist injury.
He's so busy, I thought. He never stops. I look away for a second and he's off finished already with something else that came out of nowhere.
He's so busy, I thought. He never stops. I look away for a second and he's off finished already with something else that came out of nowhere.
This is a thought I've had before, but with much more angst. When he was small, he was equally busy. It seemed to me that he rushed about from one disaster to another, creating chaos at light speed: tying himself up, cutting his hair off, exploding stuff in the microwave.
I followed the adage, "Sleep when the baby sleeps," until he was five because that was the only time I didn't need to be on super high alert for things he thought would be interesting to try.
I followed the adage, "Sleep when the baby sleeps," until he was five because that was the only time I didn't need to be on super high alert for things he thought would be interesting to try.
A genius dad friend warned me that my entire relationship with him was at risk in this dynamic, so I struggled to only use positive phrasing and redirecting with Bullar. For example, I would tell him, "You may smash rocks in the backyard with a hammer," rather than, "Don't hit my dishes with a hammer!" I used to say, "It feels so good to scream when you're mad. Scream into this pillow."
I'm certainly seeing that pay off now, as he rushes about, whistling. He's just as busy, but now he has some wisdom about where to apply his energy. He long ago internalized the boundaries of appropriate behavior. In fact, I think sometimes that he has more experience-won wisdom than the average eleven-year-old, not just because he's been home living real life instead of stuck in a classroom, but because he's been living life at triple speed, taking in new experiences faster than a speeding train.
So, parents of busy, curious, persistent, determined, stimulation-seeking preschoolers, take heart. Every character trait that drives you crazy about your three-year-old, you are going to love in your eleven-year-old someday.