I went to my first hoedown this week.
The event was part of American Education Week for Carson at his school. There were two special events planned for his first grade class on Monday.
First was a hoedown in the gym. For the last couple weeks, we have been asking Carson to show his moves and he always aloofly responded with a hunch like he didn’t know what we were talking about. That gave us reason to wonder what was happening.
It turns out he was just faking ignorance because he clearly knew the moves associated with all the songs. They might not have been timed perfectly or mastered adeptly, but that was par for the course as I looked around the room. It was a fun show to watch and the kids all did great, including our guy.
Carson was dressed for the part, too. He had on jeans that were probably a little too tight and a plaid shirt that was most definitely too tight. Holding everything in was a belt with a big western buckle. He wore a cowboy hat to fill out the outfit.
The second part of the day was in the classroom and involved verbal presentations from the kids of a few short stories. Carson was assigned the second pig in The Three Little Pigs fable.
Once we heard about this, we became quite anxious and nervous for Carson. When these sorts of situations present themselves, we imagine how tough it must be for him to know how different he is. Fortunately, I don’t think he views it that way. I think he just sees it as his reality at this time, and that’s a healthy way to look at things.
A fact of life in school is there are times when the kids give presentations and speaking in front of the class is part of it. For a non-verbal child, that’s a challenge, obviously. He is oftentimes embarrassed about using his Dynavox tablet as his voice, but to be included with the rest of the class he must overcome that. He is getting better and better at that.
He had two lines in the little presentation, “I am going to build my house from sticks,” and “not by the hair of my chinny chin chin.” All was going well into the big bad wolf got a little too close for Carson’s comfort, resulting in him taking off his pig nose and pushing it out to get the wolf out of his space.
That added a little drama to the skit in my mind.
Parenting always seems like a bunch of grayness.
I am a black-and-white kind of person (no pun attended based on my profession). I like things to be simple and clear. There’s a yes and no, a right and a wrong and a correct way and the wrong way. That’s how I live or at least how I prefer to live. I should rephrase that a third time. It’s how I used to live.
With my kids, parenting is like living in a sea of gray. Nothing is ever simple and clear cut. There’s always complications and extenuating circumstances that cloud matters.
For example, I tried to make an eye doctor’s appointment recently for Beckett. It was a struggle trying to determine an appropriate time and day of the week, due to his numerous extracurricular activities and the doctor’s tight schedule. A time was thought to be good had to be changed because of chess club. Another appointment, which would have required leaving school an hour early, had to be cancelled because he wants to give perfect attendance a try this school year. I had to honor his wishes there because it’s an honorable thing.
Similar situations play out all the time in our lives. Addressing behavior issues personifies our gray world more than any other.
When we have to look for ways to modify unacceptable behavior from our kids, we have to do in different ways for each child because they are so unique.
For Beckett, the typical and tried solutions work, most notably taking away something he likes, whether it be a skateboard, bicycle or electronic. First we tell him of the consequence and then if he doesn’t get himself right he loses one or all of them depending on the scenario. That usually takes care of it. There’s my black-and-white world I prefer.
With Carson, modifying behavior is trickier. He doesn’t care enough about any one thing to right his ways when he’s making bad decisions. He just rolls with whatever the consequence is and it’s unclear oftentimes whether he is impacted one way or the other by our chosen punishment. That comes with frustrations and an ocean of gray.
For example, after a troubling day at school recently, he was forced to write his 10 spelling words 10 times each. The next day he did the same thing and we made him write them 15 times each that night. More of the same the next day, which brought on a new consequence — no Kindle for a week. Later, after repeated behavior, no bedtime stories.
How did that turn out? Let’s just say gray remains the color of the day.
