I am constantly amazed at what my kids do and do not remember.
My boys, 11 and 9, are high-maintenance kids. I’m not talking negatively of them. It’s just the way they are at this point in their lives. They need us.
I am fortunate to have friends with kids nearly the same age as mine. Therefore, it’s wonderful to be able to compare our journeys and commiserate about this or that.
For instance, I sent a buddy a picture of what I found underneath Carson’s favorite chair one day. It was a bunch of empty plastic bags. If he was a teenager, I might have thought it was something illicit. Knowing it’s Carson and the fact he’s a cookie monster, I knew he was stashing away the evidence of some trips to the kitchen for cookies. It’s funny to me he didn’t think of throwing the bags away in the trash because we don’t dig through our trash for evidence of wrongdoing. My friend sent me back a picture of candy wrappers under his daughter’s bed from Easter. It’s comforting to know we are swimming in the same proverbial lake.
Another time recently I exchanged a series of text messages about how forgetful our kids are these days. It seems their brains just can’t keep everything straight. I like to think of it as their lives is like a juggling act. They have a lot of balls they are trying to keep in the air and there are times when one or two or more fall to the ground.
In Beckett’s case, he’s fortunate we live and work close to his school. I don’t think a week has gone by without him needing us to run something to him that he left home. One week it was his lunch. Another week it was his English binder. A different week it was his bag with his physical education clothes. It was a test he needed signed on another occasion. A few times it has been his agenda. One time he had one shoe for physical education class but needed the other one, of course (after searching the house, I found it in the back seat of my truck under a seat).
This is all part of growing pains and teaching independence. There are bound to be missteps along the way. As his parents, we are there to help as we can, but it’s remarkable to me how he can forget important things like a second shoe and remember trivial things from five years about a vacation or the exact point his video game crashed due to an Internet issue when he was 8 years old.
At one point recently, I threw one of his favorite phrases – I don’t get it — back at him. It was during a period of exasperation over his forgetfulness. I told him, “I don’t get it, how can you forget to print out an important essay and not remember to get a test signed that you got an ‘A’ on, but you can recall how many sacks Ray Lewis got in his career and how many threes Steph Curry made his rookie year.” He reminded me it’s because he has an “extreme interest” in sports, as if that should clear up or comfort me in some fashion.
With the other child of the house, it’s much of the same on a different level. Due to his disabilities, Pam and I do a lot more for Carson than Beckett when it comes to independence. We want Beckett to be accountable and able to function on a certain level without us. There are limitations with Carson.
There are reminders, however, along the way we should not underestimate him. At school, his teachers are working on independence with him, especially with packing up his materials at the end of the day. We like that, as we encourage him to get himself ready as much as possible each morning. A majority of the time it does not go well, and we are weary of setting him down a dark path before school. Rather than force the matter and run the risk of behaviors, we tend to lend a hand more than we should.
There is no question Carson, 9, works us. For example, he can get himself dressed each morning. We pick out his clothes for him, but it’s a struggle for him to dress himself. We want him to be more like his brother. The rule with Beckett is no electronics in the morning until he’s ready to walk out the door, meaning he must be dressed with his teeth brushed and in a presentable state. In a perfect world, Carson would be doing the same. I think one morning this school year got himself dressed by himself, proving he can do it. Most mornings he whines and acts helpless. Whether it’s laziness or his disabilities I don’t know, but I do know he’s playing us most of the time.
Another example of his questionable limitations came at school. One afternoon he evidently did not pack his homework folder. When we went to get out his reading homework, the folder was not there. I told him we can’t do his homework then. He gave me a coy smile, making it clear he may have intentionally not packed it.
Later, when his mom asked if he did his homework, he hunched his shoulders and signed, “Dad.” She then asked me about it and I told her the homework folder didn’t come home.
From the other room, we could hear him giggling. He thought it was hilarious. We are on to him now. He didn’t forget it. He left it at school on purpose.
